


Got You

by rosymamacita



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A puppy - Freeform, Angst, Bellarke, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Dancing, F/M, Flashbacks, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Nightmares, Polis, Post Season 3, Romance, Sharing Body Heat, Sparring, The Delinquents, background Kabby - Freeform, bellamy courts clarke, clarke's hair, courting, everyone sees it, falling asleep together, it's about love, linked one shots, no shirt, ridiculous fluff, stranded in the rover, the blue shirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7046590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosymamacita/pseuds/rosymamacita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of interrelated stories and prompts set after season 3, in the after math of the COL. Let's just pretend that apocalypse part 2 isn't happening in this version. </p><p>Bellamy is in love with Clarke. </p><p>Clarke is in love with Bellamy, too,  but she's afraid to love, she's afraid to lose him, and he knows it. </p><p>He's decided to bide his time, and let her learn on her own that she has nothing to fear from him. That it's worth the risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tangled

**Author's Note:**

> I've figured out how I'm going to handle my prompts. So far, they're all set after season 3, so I've decided linked stories might be the way to go. It's not one long multi chap fic with a plot, just vignettes set in a time between major disasters. Hopefully they will hang together and it won't matter if they are out of order chronologically. 
> 
> I feel like it's going to be a lot of flirting and teasing as Bellamy tries to help Clarke learn how to enjoy life again. Let's see if it works.
> 
> First Chapter:  
> Anonymous said:  
> Hi! S4 needs our Clarke being herself, physically and mentally. She has to change her hair. So, here my prompt: Bellamy cuts Clarke's hair

Clarke’s ankle twisted under her. She screamed and went down. But down wasn’t enough and she kept falling, grunting and tumbling down the hillside, crashing through the underbrush until she landed in a pile in the middle of a tangled bramble. 

“Clarke!” Bellamy called. She could hear him running through the woods. She always had to forge ahead and he always yelled at her for getting too far out of sight of the rest of them. Tears came to her eyes as her ankle throbbed.

“Clarke!” She could tell that he was at the top of the hill, but she couldn’t see him through the tangle of branches and leaves. “Clarke! Where are you?”

She tried to lift her head to answer, but couldn’t move. Her hair pulled painfully against the thorns. “Ow!”

“Clarke! Was that you?”

She was tangled hopelessly in the brambles. “Bellamy…” she called, weakly. Her ankle ached. Her neck was stuck in an awkward and increasingly painful position, and there was a stone pressing against a bruise on her hip. She got her elbows under her to support her weight, shifting off of the stone, and the pressure on her scalp lessened, just a bit. . “Bellamy!” Louder. “I fell! I’m down here.”

She heard the others catch up to him, question him, and then a crashing through the steep slope. “Where, Clarke? I don’t see you,” he said and he was so close.

“Here, Bellamy,” she choked out as her too desperate motions tangled her hair even further. “I’m in the bramble bush. Blackberry, I think.”

“Blackberry,” he said, calmer now. “Don’t tell Jasper, he’ll be tumbling down here to harvest them all for dessert.” She heard him coming towards her, hacking his way through the sizable bramble with his hand axe. 

“That’s a good idea, actually, ow!” Clarke said and then gasped when her mild chuckle stabbed thorns into her. “Dammit.”

“Clarke,” his voice held a note of fear. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just my ankle. I think it’s broken or sprained, but I can’t move to check it.”

“Why can’t you move?” The dread in his voice shook her.

“Nothing sinister, Bellamy, relax. I just…” she didn’t want to tell him. It was too embarrassing. She certainly didn’t want anyone to hear. “Bellamy, I…”

“Don’t stop now, Clarke, you have to keep talking so I can find you.”

She sighed deeply and winced as the motion pulled at her hair and stung her scalp. “My hair is caught in the thorns.”

It took a moment, and she heard him hacking at the brush to get closer. He was almost there and she was so relieved. “Okay,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. He’d been tugging on her too long hair every time he passed her in camp, lately. She couldn’t really understand what he meant by it, but it had become a habit. “That’s not a tragedy. We can untangle you.”

Clarke lifted a hand above her head and tried to pull a lock free. “I don’t know about that.”

And then he was there. His dark eyes smiling at her, concerned, as he chopped away the branches surrounding her. He called up to their team at the top of the hill saying he’d found her and then checked her ankle. “You’re gonna want your mom to see that,” he said. “You’re in one piece, but it’s either a bad sprain or mild break.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes and had a hard time keeping the tears out of them. She was just so glad he was here, and she hurt all over. “That’s what I told you before.”

He nodded and moved to sit by her head. “Should we get you free now?”

“Please,” she said, and a tear slid down her cheek.

His face sobered. “What’s this?” he said and wiped away the tear with one finger. “You’re okay. We’ll get you home.”

“It’s my neck, it’s just, it hurts to hold it up like this, but I can’t move my head.”

He nodded silently and slid forward until his knees were under neath her head and she could rest her cheek on his thighs. She sighed in relief. Her arm came up around his waist, holding on.

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

“No problem,” he said as he got to work on pulling her hair out of the branches. He tugged and pulled and yanked. It wasn’t working and it just hurt more.

“Just cut it, Bellamy,” she said as he struggled to detangle it. “I know it’s too long. There’s too much of it. I’m not going to be free until it’s gone.”

“I didn’t say that, Clarke.”

“No. I said it. It’s just stupid hair. Get rid of it.” She fumbled at his cargo pockets and pulled out his knife. She knew how sharp he kept it. She held it up to him. “Cut it off.”

He looked at her, his brows drawn together seriously to see if she was sure.

“Bellamy, just cut it already.”

He nodded and took the knife, his fingers brushing hers just slightly. A jolt went through her all the way to her core and she gasped.

He paused as he reached out with the knife. “You okay?”

Her heart beating rapidly, suddenly conscious that her head was on his lap, and her arms were around his waist. She could feel his body heat rising up and it made absolutely no sense, in this ridiculous predicament, for her to want to pull his shirt up so she could touch the warm skin of his stomach.

“Please, just do it,” she said and she knew her voice was husky. There was nothing about this situation that didn’t embarrass her, but at least it was Bellamy to find her like this. 

He leaned over her, his skin underneath his t-shirt warm against her face. He smelled like the trees, and woodsmoke, sweat, and something spicy. He pulled at her hair and her arm contracted around his waist, tighter.

“Did that hurt?” he asked, sitting up carefully.

She didn’t want him to see her burning cheeks. “No, just cut it, please.”

“I’m going to have to cut most of it off, Clarke. It’s going to be a lot shorter. I’ve never seen anything this tangled, and I raised Octavia. How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice muffled against his stomach. “I fell down. I rolled into the bushes. The Earth is out to get me.”

She thought she felt him shiver, but then he laughed. “I’ll take care of you,” he said. 

She pressed her forehead against his side. Nodded without words. She didn’t have any left.

In silence, he worked the knife slowly through the worst of the knots, slicing her out of the bramble. 

He was almost done when it really started to hurt, focusing intense pain on the top of her head, and she couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. He must have felt them soaking into his shirt because he sat back to look at her.

“Ow!” she cried and reached up to her scalp.

“That’s it,” he said, fierce, then reached out and with a quick swipe of his knife, she was finally free and able to move.

She drew her breath in sharply and then rolled over to face the sky, still in his lap. “Thank god!”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to be careful and leave it as long as I could, but it was a mess. I think I ruined your hair.”

For some reason, that made new tears come to her eyes.

“What is it now? Your ankle?” He wiped at her tears with his calloused fingers and she wanted nothing more than to have him do that forever.

She shook her head. Yes her ankle hurt, but it wasn’t that. It was him. It was how he cared for her. It was how he felt in her arms. It was how she wanted him. Wanted to kiss him. Wanted to wake up with him. Wanted to love him.

She blinked up at him, breathing heavily. His eyes darkened as he looked back at her, his mouth falling open, lips full and soft, and she wanted to bite them. 

Suddenly she was terrified. A tremor went through her and she squeezed her eyelids tight. Her heart raced.

It took a while before she realized that Bellamy was brushing his fingers through her hair, combing out the last of the tangles, whispering, “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” over and over again. “I got you.” She felt lighter.

He heard someone from the top of the hill shouting down. “We called ahead and Abby’s ready for her.” It was Miller, Clarke decided, still afraid to open her eyes or move. “Do we need to bring a stretcher down?”

That roused her. She didn’t want the indignity of a stretcher. She could make it out herself. “No,” she said, trying to sit up. Bellamy helped her up, one arm around her shoulders, most of her weight still on him.

“I got her, Miller!” he called back. “We don’t need a stretcher.”

“No,” she said. “I’m good.” She sat up and finally reached down to her ankle, carefully flexing and rotating it, finding the points that hurt. It really did hurt. “I don’t think it’s broken,” she said.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, but then he’d swept her up into his arms, lifting her easily as he stood.

“Bellamy!” she grabbed onto his shoulders, unsteady. “You don’t have to, just help me walk. Put me down.”

“Not happening. We need Abby to see that and make sure it’s not broken, and I’m not going to have you injure it worse.”

“I told you it’s not broken.”

“You’re not the doctor, Clarke, and I told you I got you. Okay?”

“But the hill is so steep,” she said.

“I’ll get you up the same way I got down. It’s not that steep.”

“But…”

“Clarke,” he interrupted. “Trust me.”

His eyes were brown, and warm, and filled with surety. And she trusted him, so she wrapped both arms around his neck and let him.

Bellamy carried her all the way home.


	2. Fix It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting tangled in brambles and having to get chopped out, Bellamy comes to fix the damage he did to Clarke's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> Prompt where Bellamy braids Clarke's hair because he knows how to do it (he used to do this for Octavia) and Clarke is a disaster (just her father used to comb her hair)

The next morning, she was laid up in bed, under doctor orders, grumbling with a breakfast tray, but she’d already been sent back to bed by Harper once, who was conveniently on duty right down the hall from Clarke. She’d tried to tell her mom that a sprain just needed to be wrapped and she’d be good with a pair of crutches, but it was a no go. Bellamy showed up in her room with a pair of scissors and a cloth square

“What is it? Couldn’t get enough of ruining my hair yesterday?” she said.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Teasing. I know I asked you do it.”

“I said I’d take care of you.” He opened and closed the scissors a couple of times.

“You already gave me a haircut.”

“I’m going to fix it.”

“So it looks nice?”

“Yes. What, you don’t think I can do it? Who do you think did Octavia’s hair on the Ark?”

“It doesn’t matter, Bellamy.”

“Okay, if it doesn’t matter, come with me.”

She scoffed “I would if I could, but…” she said and pointed at her ankle.

He rolled his eyes and smacked his forehead with his palm. “How could I forget?” and with that he scooped her up out of her bed and carried her out of her room and down the hall.

“Put me down, Bellamy!”

“Sorry, doctor’s orders. You’re not allowed on your feet, but I’m taking you so I can fix what I did to your hair.”

“Bellamy, knock that off. I told you you’re not to blame. I’m the one that fell into the brambles.”

“And I’m the one that is going to fix it. You trust me, right?”

Clarke grumbled but hid her face in his neck.

“All right then, here we are.” He sat her down on a log by a water basin. 

“This is ridiculous, Bellamy. I don’t need all this attention. Come on, don’t you have important guard business to take care of?”

“Nope,” he said. “Lean back.” 

She hesitated as he urged her to sit back, his arm around her.

“Don’t worry, Clarke. I’ve got you,” he said, and his deep voice set off a vibration through her. She took a deep breath and let it out, leaning back against him, closing her eyes. “Good,” he whispered.

She felt warm water sluicing over her head, his arm supporting her, the muscles of his chest against her back, and for once, she just let herself be. Let him run his fingers through her hair, adding the soap and massaging.

“You okay, there?” His voice was low and quiet. Intimate.

She nodded as he poured water over her head to rinse her hair. “Just relaxing.”

“Good,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “Now sit up.”

She pouted a little. She had been so relaxed. He pushed her so she sat up and then stood up, reaching a hand out to help pull her to her feet. He set a tall stool behind her and urged her to sit, so she did. Bellamy smiled and her heart flipped over, but then he dropped her hand and went around behind her with the towel he’d brought draping it over her head and squeezing the water out of her hair.

She was glad for the cloth over her face, because it gave her a moment to regain her composure. She flexed the hand he’d held for a moment, and tried to shake away the tingle. Bellamy started humming a tuneless melody under his breath and then draped the towel over her shoulders. She stood under his ministrations, silent.

“Now I’m just going to even it up okay? I don’t think I’ll take off too much, but yeah, you kind of look like a shaggy dog right now.”

“Bellamy!” She couldn’t believe him.

He laughed in her ear, low and quiet, just for her to hear. “I’m kidding, Clarke, you’re always beautiful.” His breath was warm against the shell of her ear, and Clarke could not breathe.

Bellamy stood back and continued on as if her world had not just stopped. He touched her at the top of her shoulders. “I’m going to cut it about here, okay?” She nodded wordlessly. He had called her beautiful.

She heard him snipping, her eyes, cast down to the ground, as if not looking at him would keep her safe. Golden strands collected at her feet as he went on. Talking about nothing, everything. All sorts of little things while Clarke could only concentrate on trying not to… she didn’t even know. At this point all she wanted was to breathe. 

He came around in front of her. “All done,” he said, and smiled. A whole smile. Happy. His eyes twinkled at her. She blew a puff up at the hair that was falling into her face.

“It’s in my eyes,” she grumbled.

He reached out and brushed her hair out of her face. She blinked up at him. “Yeah, sorry about that. The top of your hair got the worst of the knife. I had to cut it shorter. But I managed. It looks good. He handed her a small mirror and she inspected her new hair cut. It did look good. The hair curled more and framed her face, her cheeks were blushed pink and she must have been biting her lips while he was cutting her hair, because they were red and swollen, and her eyes were large and heated. Shit.

“It’s in my eyes,” she repeated, her brows drawn down as she peeked up at him through her bangs. He was smiling. Damn him..

“Okay, I can fix that.”

“Are you going to cut off more?” she asked, dismayed, and then winced. She hadn’t wanted to know how much she’d actually liked her long hair, and had been sorry that it was ruined. 

He laughed again, and the low tones started something in her. “No,” he reached up and rubbed her arm comfortingly. “Trust me.”

He smiled and stayed in front of her, his fingers brushing the hair back from her forehead. She just stared up at him as he wove the strands into a braid that went across her hair line, a small smile on his face. He braided it all the way around to the back of her head and tied it off, starting another braid on the other side.

She loved the feel of his fingers in her hair, closing her eyes to concentrate. When it stopped he came around to the front of her. He held up the mirror for her to see. “Okay?”

She nodded.

“You didn’t even look at it, Clarke. Take the mirror.”

She took the mirror and looked at herself, staring into her own eyes, knowing the truth.

“That bad?” he asked.

She shook her head. The hair floated around her head and she did, she felt free. She touched it. The thin braids holding her bangs back, the curls like a halo of gold. “No, you did a great job. Thanks, Bellamy. I should have believed you.”

“Good,” he said firmly, stuck the mirror and scissors in his cargo pocket. Pulled the towel off of her shoulders, dusting the hair bits away. “Time for another ride,” he said, and swept her up into his arms again.

She didn’t even argue this time, just wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. “Where are we going?”

“Back to bed, Clarke.” Her heart leapt for a second. “Doctor’s orders. You are confined to your room.”

“Oh.” She said. And in no time at all, he had deposited her on her narrow bed, and tucked her in. He stood up and looked at her before holding up one finger.

“I almost forgot.” He reached into yet another of his cargo pockets and pulled out an ancient, yellowed paperback. “Pride and Prejudice, ever read it?”

“No.”

“Good, then. We found a bunch of books in a bunker while you were gone and have been passing them around camp. This is one of the favorites. Have fun,” he said, and turned to go.

“Bellamy!” she called, startled. “Where are you going?”

He turned back and smiled, his eyes crinkling at her. Crinkling. She swallowed. “Did you think I was going to be able to hang out with you all day, Clarke?” he said gently. “Everyone has jobs to do.”

“No, I know that.” She plucked at the weave of her blanket. It was this sky blue color, certainly not Ark issued. She wondered where they’d gotten it. He was still standing there. The blanket was a lovely color and she thought she’d examine it until he walked away and was not there to witness any more of her neediness. 

“Clarke?” 

“Yes?” Was blanket was woven or knitted, she couldn’t really tell the difference.

“Do you want me to come back and check on you later?”

She decided the blanket was knit. “Mmhm,” she said, quietly.

“Clarke,” he urged. 

She looked up. His smile was only one sided this time, but it was so gentle. “I’ll bring you some lunch, okay? You can tell me about your book?”

“That sounds nice,” she said.

He nodded. “’Til we meet again,” he said, and then left.

She let her breath out, not realizing she had been holding it. She fluffed her hair, feeling how soft and silky it was, remembering his fingers in it and how good they had felt.

She shook her head, trying to clear it, then picked up the book in her lap, opened it and settled in to read

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”


	3. Until The Storm Passes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming back to Arkadia, the rover loses its charge. Caught in a downpour, they can't exactly walk home, unless they want to catch their death in the rain.
> 
> So Bellamy and Clarke decide to stay the night in the rover, alone, and simply do nothing.
> 
> "Nothing" turns out to be a lot more "something" than Clarke bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> Ok I have a similar prompt to the first that you have written. Bellamy and Clarke go in the Rover. They are returning in the middle of night but the Rover breaks down. Now, they have to stay all the night there ;)

“We’re not going to make it, Bellamy,” Clarke said, shaking her head.

He didn’t even look at her. “We’re going to make it.”

“The charge is almost gone, and that storm is going to catch us any minute now.”

He spared a glance to the ominous dark clouds that they’d been trying to outrace. “We’re going to make it.”

“Arkadia is still 5 miles out, Bellamy. We should have stopped at that last way station when we had the chance.”

“Clarke, will you stop being such a doom sayer? I promised we’d be back. We’ll be back.”

Big fat raindrops splatted on the window. They rapidly turned into a sheet of rain. Bellamy slowed the Rover down and turned on the windshield wipers. 

Clarke just sighed.

“We’ll make it Clarke. There’s enough juice to get us home. Trust me,” he said.

The rover slowly rolled to a stop. Bellamy closed his eyes. 

Clarke chewed on her lip. Refraining, refraining really hard from saying anything.

But he didn’t say anything either, and just how long was she expected to sit there with him not owning up to his mistake?

“So…” she said, ready to say it.

“Fine, you were right, are you happy?”

She turned in her seat to face him, trying and failing to suppress her smile. “Well, I mean we’re still stuck in the rover in a downpour, but yeah, I’m happy. You had to say I was right.”

He pursed his lips at her and rolled his eyes. “Well, enjoy your happiness while you can.” He climbed out of his seat and went into the back of the rover. “Come on, get your pack. Let’s get going back to Arkadia.”

Smile evaporated. “Uh, we’re not hiking through the woods in a torrential downpour, Bellamy. It’s like 45 degrees out there. We’ll catch a chill and die. As a doctor I strongly advise against this course of action.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

“Fine a medical trainee. Are you a medical trainee, Bellamy Blake? No you are not. You are a captain with the guard, expert in firearms, security and managing missions to the outer boundaries. A mission, I might add, that you bolloxed up by misjudging the charge of the rover. It’s a good thing this wasn’t a war, or we’d be dead right now. Captain Underestimated The Distance.”

“Fine, Clarke. You win. Shut up. We’ll stay here until the storm passes.” He flopped back into the drivers seat. Clarke curled her legs up under her in her seat as she watched him, with his sour face.

“Bellamy we’re going to be here all night.”

“Are you trying to piss me off, Clarke? Revenge for not stopping at the way station like you told me to?”

“Maybe,” she said. He looked at her sharply. She lifted her chin, daring him to… she wasn’t sure what. But he just turned his head and looked out the window on the other side, the raindrops rolling down the glass. She swore she could see a grin on his face.

She watched him as he stared out the darkening, wet window. She bit her lip.

“What are we going to do with ourselves,” she asked, her heart suddenly racing. “Stuck all night in the rover. Alone.”

She saw him nodding slowly, the hair curling on the back of his head, wild and tangled. She kind of wanted to run her fingers through it. 

“Nothing.”

“What? You want to do nothing?”

He turned around and grinned at her. “Yeah. I just want do nothing. We never get to do nothing. There’s always somewhere to go or some mission to undertake. A wall to fix or a broken bone to set or a meeting to have. How about we just….” He sighed deeply. “Do nothing.”

She blinked, slightly offended. She looked down at her lap, surreptitiously checking to see if her unbuttoned henley had somehow miraculously gotten buttoned up, but no, the earth cleavage was still good. Why didn’t he ever even notice? She knew he liked girls. She remembered all his casual encounters at the drop ship.

Shit. She turned to stare out her own darkening window. Had she really been hoping to be one of his casual encounters? The raindrops rolled down and made tracks on the glass. Yes. And no. She realized then she could see Bellamy’s reflection in the window glass. He was watching her. He caught her eye in the reflection and tilted his head.

“You borrowed Jasper’s iPod, right? You want to find some of that old music and I’ll get the emergency rations, and we’ll just… do nothing.”

She turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. Not doing it for the good earth cleavage at all. He raised his eyebrow at her and smiled. 

She rolled her eyes, and reached over to the little compartment where she’d been charging the iPod. She hoped it had gotten a full charge before the car battery had died. Bellamy climbed into the back of the rover and rummaged in his pack.

By the time he’d come back, she’d set the gadget to shuffle, and ancient music from pre cataclysm Earth filled the car, drowning out the rain. 

He handed her some dried fruit, some deer jerky, and a piece of dry, crumbly travel cake that someone had concocted out of oats. Other people complained about the bland bread, but it stored well, so it was always found in emergency rations. Clarke had a secret fondness for it, and it’s slight honey taste. She finished hers up immediately and looked up to find him grinning at her.

“What?”

He broke off half of his travel cake and handed it to her. Clarke tilted her head. He nodded. “Take it. You actually like the thing. I just eat it for nutrition, because I have to.”

Clarke made a doubtful face at him but it didn’t stop her from taking the cake. She nibbled on it while watching him as he worked on his jerky, happily, listening to the music and watching the rain.

“Here,” Clarke handed him a piece of her jerky. He grinned and reached out to take it, his fingers brushing hers. She wiped the tingle of his touch from her fingertips and sat back in her seat, as he did in his, and they watched the raindrop roll down the windshield. Doing nothing just like he said. 

She was chewing on dried cherries and nuts when Bellamy started singing along with the music.

There's a stain on my notebook where your coffee cup was  
And there's ash in the pages now I've got myself lost  
I was writing to tell you that my feelings tonight  
Are a stain on my notebook that rings your goodbye

Clarke stared at him open mouthed before he caught her.

He stopped singing. “What?”

“You can sing?”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I can sing. Is that a problem?”

Clarke shook her head, not really knowing why her heart had almost stuttered to a stop when he’d begun to sing. “No, no of course not. I just didn’t know you did.”

“Maybe that’s because we never got the chance just to do nothing.” He smiled at her. Full smile. White teeth and everything. She’d never seen that before. She was a little bit dazzled. 

“Keep singing,” she asked, and leaned her head back against her seat so she could watch him. She wrapped her arms around her knees.

He kept smiling but turned back to the windshield and… just sang for her.

He stopped when the song switched to another, shrugging, embarrassed. “I don’t know this one. That one was one of my favorites.”

“How did you know all the words?” she asked him, feeling oddly still inside. Calm. Happy. This feeling was happy.

“We used to hang out and drink Monty’s moonshine and listen to Jasper’s iPod. Sometimes we’d have contests about who could sing it the best. Raven had a bet that I’d beat Miller one week, so she wrote out all the words and drilled me until I knew it all. Raven won her bet. Miller had to catch and skin a panther for her. That fur on her bed? This is the song that got it for her. Raven is a heartless coach. Oh yeah, don’t ever bet against her.”

He was laughing, his eyes twinkling and she felt such a sense of loss. 

“What’s the long face for? Don’t worry, Miller had to take my night watch for a week. I got something out of it, too.”

“I missed it. I missed it all.”

Bellamy’s smile slid off his face. He turned to face her. “I thought of you every time. Wished you had been there.” His eyes were warm and brown and deep and wouldn’t let hers go. “I missed you. We all did.”

She’d been living in caves. Or in a tower in the sky. She suddenly felt very cold. She shivered. 

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she said brushing it off.

He let it go, for which she was grateful, and they sat there and listened to the music. but then he glanced at her again. “Yeah, the temperature’s dropping. With the batteries dead and no heat in here, it’s going to get cold tonight. Good thing we brought our camping gear, just in case.”

“Always g-g-gotta b-be prep-p-pared,” Clarke stuttered through gritted teeth.

“The hell, Clarke? Have you been sitting there freezing all this time?”

“It’s no b-big deal.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and climbed into the back of the rover, grabbing their packs and opening up his bedroll, laying it on the floor of the rover. “Come here,” he said.

“D-don’t tell me what to do,” she said, nonsensically.

“Come on, Clarke, knock it off. You’re cold. It’s no big deal now, but come here. Lay down. We can listen to the music from back here as well as we can from those seats.

She wanted to fight him, just because, she didn’t know, fighting Bellamy Blake kept her warm, but she also wanted to lay down and he was holding the blanket open for her, waiting to tuck her in and that just sounded really nice.

“It’s not that c-cold,” she said as she crawled into the back, and laid down on his bedroll. “I’ll be fine, really, Bellamy. It’s just a chill,” but she sighed as he put the second bedroll on top of her tucking her in. 

He sat on the bench. “Better?”

She leaned up on her elbows and looked at him. “No,” she said, almost angry. “That’s not g-going to work at all.”

“What is it now?”

“Maybe I’m smaller and feel the cold first, but there’s no way you’re sleeping on that bench while I have your bedroll. You’ll freeze. Get in here.” She lifted the bedroll and tilted her head at him. He made a skeptical face. “I need your body heat, Bellamy. I’m still ca-ca-cold.”

“You faker.” Bellamy laughed. 

“No really, I’m cold. I stopped shivering but the blankets are not that warm. We can’t start a fire in the rover, so come on, shared body heat.” She was still holding the blanket up. “Hurry up, Bellamy, I’m getting cold again,” she snapped.

“Fine.” He shook his head and crawled in beside her. He was pulling the blankets up when she turned on her side and backed into his chest. Cuddling into him. He let out a breath that sounded somewhat like a laugh, but then ran his hand up and down her arm to warm her. She grabbed his hand and wrapped it around her waist.

“Better.”

She felt him tense, but after few moments, he relaxed. “Okay, yeah, it’s better.” The music played on and the rain pattered on the roof of the car. Their breaths puffed in the chill air, but she felt perfect and warm.

“Tell me more about what happened when I was away, what I missed.” She said, a little concerned with how soft and insecure her voice was. He just pulled her closer to him, his warmth enveloping her, and told her a story about Monty and his experience with a new type of grounder weed, and how they all “accidentally” ended up stoned out of their gourds for a training meeting. He started off with funny stories, but as the night went on, he started to get sad. Sharing stories of Monroe flipping one of the Alpha station recruits because he thought her station and size and status made her beneath him. Or how Lincoln taught some of the kids how to play ground ball. He told her of Jasper’s drunk episodes and Raven’s painful treatments. And she kept asking for more. Desperate, it felt, to hear about them, while she was gone. The bad and good both.

“And what about Gina?” She finally asked.

He was silent, for long enough that she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he started telling Clarke stories about her. About how she was good, and her sarcastic sense of humor, and she took care of him even though it was so hard to let her. 

“I think I would have liked her,” Clarke said, with her hand on top of his, holding it to her. She felt him nod behind her, and then go silent again.

“Do you want to tell me about what happened to you while you were away?” he asked, quietly.

She sighed. “I wanted to forget everything. Everyone.”

She felt his chest move as he breathed in.

“I couldn’t. Not when I was alone, not when I was in Polis. It didn’t work. You were all I ever thought of. I know it doesn’t matter. Why does it matter if I didn’t come home? What do thoughts mean? I left you here alone and left them to suffer and I suffered too so what was the point—”

“Shhhhh,” he whispered into her hair. "I got you." He held her tighter. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“Bellamy, it’s just, I don’t know what it meant.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

“When you’re ready.”

She thought she would have more to say, but the silence stretched on and she was so comfortable that she just fell asleep instead of struggling with it all.

Sometimes during the night, the charge on the iPod died and the music stopped. Leaving them with nothing but their gentle sleeping breaths, and the sound of the rain falling on the roof of the rover.


	4. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after getting stuck over night with Bellamy in the rover, Clarke wakes up in a great mood. But then things get a little messy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got two prompts that fit together for this one, so here they are
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> Hi! I have a prompt. Clarke needs a t-shirt because (x reason) and I miss Bellamy's blue shirt. Just saying.
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> My prompt is a morning in Arkadia where Clarke wakes up with her messy sexy hair and a big shirt like pyjama (Bonus for Bellamy's shirt) and Bellamy gets nervous.

It was odd to wake, the blankets tucked around her. The air bright and crisp. After getting stuck in the rover on a cold, wet night, she should feel unrested, or grumpy or uncomfortable, but she woke feeling good. Well rested. A smile on her face.

Bellamy was nowhere to be found. She felt a moment of loss that he wasn’t there, the way they’d fallen asleep, sharing blankets and body heat and companionship. It was silly, she shook it off. She got up and rolled up both bed rolls, securing them back onto their respective packs, then she climbed out of rover.

The sky was washed clean, a bright blue, and the sun filled the sky. He’d let her sleep pretty late, she could see, but what use was it to wake her? They couldn’t go anywhere until the Rover was charged, but with a sun so bright, that shouldn’t take long.

Everything was dripping wet, and steaming in the sun. It felt like Spring was coming in earnest. She breathed it in then looked around for Bellamy.

“Bellamy!” she called, cautiously at first. It bothered her a little that she didn’t know where she was and she took a circuit around the rover. “Bellamy!” she called again. “Where’d you go?”

She got no answer. She stepped out into the field and immediately fell into a puddle that was shin deep.

“Ahhh!” she screamed.

“Clarke!” she heard, and then him crashing through the woods.

“Oh crap.” She sat up, covered in mud, just as Bellamy came out into the clearing.

“Are you okay?”

“Just clumsy. Are you going to help me up or what.”

“I guess that means you’re okay? Did you hurt your ankle again?”

She’d forgotten about her ankle. She’d already sprained it once. Good lord she had gotten so clumsy. Fallling all over the place. “I blame you.” 

He reached out and she grabbed his hand, hauling her to her feet, but holding onto her, keeping her weight on him while she tested her ankle. 

“How is this my fault?”

“I was looking for you,” she said. But she thought, you make me feel off balance. She looked down and shook her head. “My ankle’s fine. I’m just a mess.”

“You are soaked. How did you get this wet?”

“Did you see the puddle? We could go fishing in it.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Check your pockets, maybe you caught a trout while you were down there.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously?”

He smiled crookedly at her. “Go put on your change of clothes. We still have to wait for the battery to charge. I’ll start a fire and make some tea to go along with our travel cakes.”

She grinned.

“Oh you like that do you? Go fix that,” he waved at her muddy soaked self, and turned to the kindling he’d brought back from the woods.

Clarke climbed into the back of the rover, smiling. She shouldn’t be smiling. Especially after a night stuck in the rover, eating trail food, and a morning dunk in a muddy puddle. She shouldn’t be happy. Happy wasn’t what she was supposed to be. But she was.

She didn’t want to examine that. The edges would be rubbed off of it if she held it too closely, so she shoved it down and dug through her pack to get her spare clothes, only to find worn cargo pants and nothing else.

“Crap. Bellamy,” she called through the open door. “I already wore my spare shirt when I got all bloody after Bryan’s head wound last week.”

“You didn’t replace it?” he asked, the scold in his voice, still busy trying to light the small fire with the damp wood. 

“So sue me. I forgot. Can I borrow yours?”

“Fine. Go ahead.” He said, dismissively over his shoulder as a thread of smoke went up from his tinder.

She turned to to his pack and dug through it. She had to admit that it was far more organized than hers. She had her medical bag, and all, and that was organized, but other than that, she tended to put things in there on a whim, and his were all rolled up much more neatly. Maybe it was the military training. Anyway, she appreciated his clean, dry extra clothes. She shook out the pristine roll of blue cotton and stared at the shirt in her hands.

It was the shirt that Bellamy had worn when they had been at the drop ship. When it had just been them against the world.

Her throat closed up with emotion as she clutched the cotton shirt. It was old and so worn. Soft with many washings, with tiny holes along the seams and fabric that was so thin in was almost see through in some places.

She wanted this shirt. She wanted to wear it. She wanted to keep it. She wanted her hands on it and she couldn’t explain the intense desire for an old, Ark issued t shirt. But she knew it was hers, from here on out.

She shot her glance through the rover windows over at Bellamy. He was still busy feeding the fire, not paying any attention, so she quickly stripped down to her skin. Even her bra and underwear were soaked through and would just make the waiting time and drive back to Arkadia damp and miserable, so she got rid of those too, stuffing them in a crumpled heap back into her pack. She pulled on Bellamy’s shirt and her old cargos. Luckily her socks were still dry, because wet socks were one of the worst things she’d discovered when she got down to Earth, and with all she’d suffered, that said a lot. 

Her hair was mostly dry, but the ends of it were straggly and wet and just getting her shirt (hers) wet, so she pulled all her hair up onto the top of her head in a rough knot, just to keep it off her shoulders. She never really paid much attention to doing her hair. It’s probably why she’d let it get so long and tangled when she was left to her own devices, but she did know she wanted it up and off of her shirt.

Her jacket was also soaked, at least the front. She thought she might be able to dry most of it off so when the climbed out of the rover, she hung it off of the mirror in the sun. The sun was just getting brighter and hotter, with the clouds from last night’s storm all gone and the sky above the bluest thing she’d ever seen. Real blue. Bluer than anything she could have imagined when she lived on the Ark. 

She turned to Bellamy. “Can you believe how blue this sky is? Is it even a real color?”

Bellamy was standing there, blinking at her, his eyes traveling up and down her body in a way that made her pay attention to him, immediately. He’d never looked at her like that. “You—“ he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He cleared his throat. “You found my shirt.” Suddenly looking away. 

“Yeah, thanks.” She narrowed her eyes at him, fully aware that he was avoiding looking at her as she walked around the fire to stand in front of him. 

He cleared his throat again and crouched down to hang the water pot on the set up over the fire. “Oatmeal,” he muttered glancing up at her, his eyes dark and intense. He stirred the pot. “It’s not warm enough for… that. You need to put your jacket on.”

Clarke found herself smiling. She looked down at his shirt. It barely counted as a shirt, to be honest. It was so thin it clung to her every curve, and without her bra, she had a lot of them to cling to. He had to know what this shirt was like. She wondered if he kept in his pack just to show off for whatever cutie might be on the road with him. 

The thought made her just a tad competitive. She stretched out a little. Looked up at the blue, blue sky and smiled innocently. “Oh I don’t know, it’s pretty warm out. And the sun is so hot.” She wiggled a little bit and heard him choke. “Feels good,” she said, and looked back at him. “Besides, my jacket is soaked. No point in putting it on.” He was staring, his mouth open. 

She’d never seen Bellamy move so fast.

Suddenly his jacket was off and he was wrapping it around her shoulders. 

She looked at him as he pulled it around her, and noticed the amber flecks in his eyes, the scar on his lip, the stubble on his chin. 

She let a breath out without meaning to and felt him lean into her, just for one second. And then he was muttering “oatmeal,” and squatting back by the fire, stirring the pot. 

She stood there. Needing a moment. Then she shoved her arms into his jacket, feeling it still warm from his body heat. It smelled like him.

This wasn’t something to tease about. 

She sat across the fire from him until he served up a bowl of warm oatmeal, flavored with the dried berries from the packs, and they ate until they were full and by then the rover was charged and and they were back to normal.

But on the drive home, Bellamy kept sneaking looks at her out of the corner of his eye. And she hugged herself, wrapped in Bellamy’s shirt and jacket, imagining, but not really, that it was his arms holding her tight.


	5. A Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other delinquents aren't quite sure what's going on with Bellamy and Clarke. Well, some of them think they have it figured out, but Clarke doesn't know how, considering she has no idea what is happening with them, and it's confusing the hell out of her. Except when it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the-ships-to-rule-them-all said:  
> for a fic request: Can I have canonverse Everybody sees it for Bellarke, like everyone reacting to little moments between them and observing them

Bellamy winked at her, his hand brushing across the top of her back as he left the mess hall. She blinked at the sensations it sent down her spine and shook it off.

Raven settled into the seat across from her.

“Okay. You’ve GOT to tell me what’s going on with you and Bellamy. Is this a thing now?”

Clarke blinked up at her friend. “A thing?”

“Come on, Clarke. I can tell a thing when I see one. Are you screwing?”

“No!” Clarke said, and she knew her voice sounded almost offended. 

Raven sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, lowering her head and staring piercingly at Clarke. And staring.

Clarke snorted. “We are not…” she had to pause before she could say the word. “Screwing.” There it was. Now she could identify the tone of her voice. It wasn’t offended. It was bitter.

Raven nodded. Slowly. Clarke eyed her suspiciously.

“But you want to.”

Clarke gaped at her. No words.

“You REALLY want to.”

Clarke’s eyelids fluttered. She couldn’t help it. It was like she’d intended the lie to come out but her body wouldn’t let her lie. 

“Huh,” Raven said. “What’s the hold up?”

Clarke shrugged. She picked at her finger nails. She should probably stop doing that. It was a bad habit.

Raven flagged down the guy with the moonshine and plunked a beaker full of liquid death in front of her.

“Damn girl. You need a drink.”

Raven’s face held nothing but sympathy. Clarke picked up the beaker and drank, choking for a minute. Then she finished it off. 

“Maybe two,” Raven said and called the guy back. “Make it a double this time.” He poured another round from his jug into the beakers. 

***

Harper caught her when she was staggering— no, walking, she was fine— back to her room. 

“Oh, thank god!” she said. “I’ve been looking for Bellamy everywhere and I have no idea where he’s gone.”

“I don’t know—“ Clarke started, intending to tell her she didn’t know where he was, she hadn’t seen him since he left the canteen, way before her, before Raven sat down with her need to fill Clarke with as much moonshine as she could in the name of support of frustrated hearts. And loins, Raven kept insisting. 

“Can you give him this message? We’re supposed to go on a hunting trip at first light but we’ve got to leave from the other side of camp. Something about the washed out gully, I don’t know. It’s Miller, he’s always saying things as if we know what he means because we’re supposed to be inside his head. Can you give it to him when you see him tonight? I’m exhausted and I have to get my rest before the early call?” Harper smiled brightly and Clarke couldn’t help but smile back.

“Great. You’re the best.” The girl hugged her and Clarke hugged back and then Harper was gone. It took a few moments before Clarke realized that she’d given her a message to give Bellamy, thinking that Clarke would be, what? Going home to Bellamy’s room? Did Harper think she and Bellamy were…

Clarke raised her hand to call her back and inform her correctly that nothing, dammit, was going on between them, but it was too late. Harper was gone. Clarke’s reaction time was too slow. She blamed it on the moonshine Raven forced on her.

Clarke grinned. Monty’s moonshine had gotten better since the drop ship.

She held onto the message in her hand. She supposed she had better find Bellamy and give him the message.

***

“Bellamy!” she sang as she barged into his room.

She opened the door and there was Bellamy, sitting on his bed. She smiled and barreled into him, nearly knocking him back onto the mattress. It made her happy that she could do that. She laughed. “I’m the one that’s drunk, but you’re the one who can’t hold your liquor!” She fell into his lap, her hands firmly holding onto his broad shoulders. 

“Clarke!” He said, surprised. “What the hell happened to you? I just left you in the canteen not 45 minutes ago, and you were stone cold sober.”

“Raven happened,” she said, seriously. “She said I needed a drink.”

“Jesus, Clarke. Did no one warn you about Raven and her ridiculous tolerance?”

“What?”

“And how much she loves to watch other people get shit faced and spill all their heart’s deepest secrets? Believe me. I’ve learned my lessons.”

Clarke grinned and twined her arms around his neck. “You told Raven your deepest secrets? Tell me. Tell me your secrets.” He smelled so good. She tried to remember if he smelled so good before the moonshine.

“I’ll go,” said Monty, grinning from the far corner of the room. “I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

Clarke turned her attention to the younger boy for the first time.

“Monty! My friend!” Clarke reached out to hug him and would have fallen off of Bellamy’s lap directly onto the floor if Bellamy hadn’t grabbed her.

“Wait! Don’t go. I just came to give Bellamy a message.” She turned back to Bellamy. His face was close to hers, she liked it that way. She patted it. “Harper says the other side of camp.” And she nodded pleased that she could remember.

“I have no idea what that means, Clarke.” He took the paper out of her hand. “Is this the message?”

“Sure,” Clarke said. She was eyeing Belllamy’s pillow. It looked so fluffy and her head felt kind of heavy. She slid off of Bellamy’s lap and onto the bed, stretching out, kicking against his thigh until her head settled on the pillow. “Ohhh Bellamy,” she said. “Your bed is so much better than mine.” 

Bellamy coughed. She opened her eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d closed them. “Where’d Monty go, I wanted him to have a drink with us.” 

“He left. No more drinks, Clarke. I’m going to have to talk to Raven about this.”

Clarke laughed. “Raven’s in trouble!” she sang. “She got Bellamy’s girl drunk.”

“What?”

“I’m dizzy Bellamy.” She kicked his thigh. “I’m going to sleep here.” She stretched out and felt his hands on her ankles, gentle and warm,

“You’re going to sleep in my bed,” he repeated.

“Mmhmm.” She settled into the pillow. “It smells like you.” It made her happy. 

She heard him make a strange noise and the bed shifted. Her ankles, which had been in his lap were now cold and lonely. She sat up flailing out until she grabbed his arm and held on. “No! You can’t go. You have to stay, it’s the rules.”

“No, Clarke those are not the rules.” His voice was almost pleading.

He sounded so worried. “I just,” she let go of his wrist. “I’m just tired. And it feels right. Right here. I just— when we were stuck in the rover that night, you slept right next to me. It reminded me of before. I missed you.” She said the words and she wasn’t sure exactly what she meant. If she missed him from the rover, or from before, before everything happened, back when they were a team, together. 

Dammit. She realized she was not as drunk as she was pretending to be, not really. She knew she was pushing it. She put her feet onto the floor and stood up. “I’m sorry. I’m being dumb. I’ll go. “

He snorted, and put two fingers to her shoulder, pushing her back onto the bed. She collapsed.   
“Hey.”

“Go to sleep. I got you.” He grabbed her foot and began unlacing her boots. He took the boot off and she curled her toes against his palm. He started the next one.

“Will you lie down with me?”

He curled a crooked smile at her. “I have to get some work done first, but yeah, I’ll sleep with you.”

Her heart felt too big for her chest and she sighed hugely, stretching back out on his pillow, with his scent. “You make sure, Bellamy. I don’t want you pretending to fall asleep in the chair so you don’t bother me.”

“The way you’re pretending to fall asleep in my bed?”

She felt a blanket fall on her shoulders. “I am not pretending, Bellamy. I am falling asleep. Because you’re here.” It smelled like him. 

“Glad to know I’m so stimulating, Clarke.”

She meant to make a crack about how stimulating, exactly he was, but the darkness rose up above her head and she was gone. 

***

She didn’t know how long it was before the knocking at the door woke her.

“Come in.”

“Yeah man I just wanted to tell you—“

— A pause

“It’s okay, she’s out like a light. Too much to drink.”

“Do you know what you’re doing here?”

“Nope.” A pause. “Yes.” An almost guilty admission.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get hurt.”

“Did you come to defend my poor, fragile heart, Miller, or was there something else you wanted?”

“I came to tell you that we’re meeting on the opposite side of camp tomorrow morning. The gully is washed out and the game trail is gone. So we’re taking the second route.”

“Yeah, I know. Clarke came here to deliver that message.” A pause. “You can stop looking at me like that. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Probably. See you tomorrow morning.”

Clarke heard the door close and Bellamy sigh. She was wide awake now, afraid to open her eyes, but listening as hard as she could. She heard the light flick off and cool darkness covered her face. He sat on the bed next to her and she heard him take off his boots, one at a time. Heard them drop to the floor.

She risked peeking her eyes open. She saw nothing but the shadow of him at the edge of the bed. Then he stretched out next to her, the bed sinking under his weight and she let herself roll into him.

She felt his gasp when she pressed up against him. Felt when his arm came around her. When he sighed into her hair. 

She put her hand over his poor, fragile heart. They fell asleep together like that.


	6. Will Be Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Polis, where Clarke, Bellamy and Raven must spend time with the grounder leaders. Roan makes observations, and Luna makes connections that Clarke is not entirely comfortable with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> Hi! I have another prompt for your list. Bellamy has connection with Luna (or x grounder) and Clarke gets jealous.

Clarke had been dreading this trip to Polis.

She had apologized for her terrible actions towards Luna, and for bringing ALIE to her people, and even spent some time getting to know her, learning her philosophies, which were honestly something she believed and respected. And Clarke and Luna were building a working relationship based on respect and a unity of purpose on bringing peace and prosperity to their peoples, but they would never be friends. 

The new coalition meeting went better than she expected, though. Luna was much better at getting the other grounders to agree to her new rules than Clarke could ever hope to be. She was better than Lexa had ever been. Although to be fair, Lexa never actually cared if her coalition agreed to her new rules, she just expected them to follow them.

Clarke sighed and eyed Luna, sitting at the other end of long feast table and laughing. She knew full well that she should like Luna, that she should get along with her better than she had with any other leader, but there was that bad blood between them, the time she tried to force the chip on Luna. Luna had forgiven her, but Clarke wasn’t quite sure if she could forgive herself, and so she always felt awkward around the beautiful, soulful heda.

The heda in question threw back her head, her wild hair alive like the sea, and laughed. The sound filling the hall with joy and life. 

And then there was that. 

Luna put her hand on Bellamy’s forearm, grinning at whatever it was he’d said to her. He smiled back into her eyes and Clarke wanted to leap over the table and stab her table knife through her heart.

Clarke swallowed heavily and grabbed for her wine glass, drinking deep, hoping it would calm her.

Roan’s throaty chuckle filled her ear. “Be careful, Wanheda, or everyone will see how much you care for him, and your secret will be out.”

Clarke pressed her lips together in annoyance and tilted her chin, the way her mother did when she wanted someone to believe they shouldn’t dare question her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no secret.”

He looked at her cooly and raised one eyebrow.

Raven, on the other side of Roan leaned forward and caught Clarke’s eye, grinning. “Clarke kom Skaikru and Bellamy kom Skaikru are not in a relationship, King Roan, no matter what you think you are seeing.” Raven raised her own wine glass in a toast to Clarke and drank.

Roan leaned back in his seat and looked between Clarke on the one side of him and Raven on the other. Clarke was almost positive he had engineered the seating plans for this official feast, so that he could needle Clarke all through dinner and eye Raven like he wanted to eat her for dessert. By Raven’s high color and bright eyes, Clarke thought she might have put herself on the menu.

“I thought that this was a connection you wanted to keep, wisely, away from the attention of the politics of Polis.”

Clarke looked away from him, her eyes catching on Bellamy and Luna. He was leaning his head towards her, whispering something in her ear. She felt her jaw tense. “There’s nothing between us.” She muttered.

Roan’s silence made her uneasy. She looked at him in alarm. His face was carefully neutral.

Raven placed a delicate hand on his arm and leaned into him. The damn flirt. “I don’t think she even really knows,” She said, her voice pitched for Roan, but her eyes piercing Clarke’s. 

The next laugh that filled the air of the feast was Bellamy’s. And it was free and joyous and it made her heart go cold. She looked over at him and he was looking at Luna like she was the best thing in the world.

“Excuse me,” Clarke said and slipped out of her seat, away from Roan and Raven’s knowing eyes, past the silent guards at the door and out into the hall. She walked down it until she found a balcony she knew from her time here, with a view off to the west and the mountains in the distance.

When she heard footsteps, she wasn’t surprised. When she turned around to see Luna, though, she was.

“Clarke kom Skaikru,” Luna said. Luna never called Clarke Wanheda the way the other grounder leaders did. Somehow, Luna knew how much the annihilation of the mountain people had affected her. “I apologize if King Roan offended you. I understand that he was the one who kidnapped you, but he lead me to believe you were friends, and I know you have few friends in Polis. That is why I sat you by him.”

Clarke looked down, confused. Not at what she said. She knew he’d finagled that seating, but that Luna was even here, that Luna would have thought about such a thing. And also at the spike of jealousy she felt, looking at Luna, beautiful in her silks of blue and green, with her serene smile. Dammit. 

“Roan is my friend,” she said. Another surprise. “He’s just also kind of a jerk.”

Luna laughed then. Clarke looked up at her and watched her. Her hair tossing in the breeze from the balcony, the sound bell like. Luna loved to laugh, apparently, and it just made Clarke feel worse. She pinched her lips and looked out at the mountains.

It took a few minutes before Luna’s laughter died down. She stepped closer to Clarke. 

“You loved Lexa,” she said. Clarke didn’t respond. Luna didn’t seem to be looking for confirmation. “It must be hard for you to be back here. I… heard about your imprisonment.”

Clarke grit her teeth together. Her shoulders tensed.

“Polis can be a hard place, Clarke. It is unforgiving. It is vengeful. It is cruel.” Her voice was low. Luna reached out and took hold of Clarke’s hand. She wanted to recoil at the intimacy, but she also craved it, craved this connection with this woman who was like her, like Lexa, who had known her. “I loved Lexa too, Clarke. That was why I left. At my convocation, I had the choice to kill her or leave, and so I left.” She squeezed Clarke’s hand in sympathy. “Do you understand? I loved her, so I let her go, to her own life, and chose a different path. It was best for me. It was best for her. We parted, so we could both succeed and grow and live and find new love.”

Clarke swallowed heavily. She had not chosen her love for Lexa, not even to let her go. She had chosen her love for her people. And the guilt tore at her. That her choice had caused Lexa’s death. She had chosen her people, to return home to them, to return home to…

She looked up at Luna then, standing so close to her, her dark eyes mesmerizing. Clarke felt her heart speed up. Felt adrenaline pumping through her veins. Felt the dangers thrill through her, the fear that she would have to fight Luna and lose, again, because Luna was not talking about Lexa anymore.

“You can’t have him,” Clarke hissed. “He’s mine. I won’t let him go.”

Luna smiled. “Do you own him, then?”

“No! Of course not.” She didn’t own him. She knew that. He was free to do what he wanted to. To go where he wanted. Terror rose up in her throat. He let her go. She left him. She went to Lexa. She was taken to her against her will, but she chose Lexa over him. How could she stop him from choosing Luna. Why wouldn’t he choose Luna? Just look at her, so beautiful, so confident, with a clean soul, free of unjust deaths.

“He lead me to believe that there was no understanding between you.”

“There isn’t,” she choked out.

“He is worthy.” She said. “I asked him to come live with us.”

Clarke pulled her hand out of Luna’s grasp, clenching her fists at her side, hardly able to breathe. 

“He said no. He said his duty was to his people.” 

Clarke filled her lungs with air. She felt Luna watching her but she couldn’t face her.

“I am not ready to move on from Derek,” Luna continued. “I loved him and his loss hurts me still. It hurts that you were able to retrieve the other possessed folk, but his love for me doomed him.” Clarke could hear the sound of tears in her voice. She looked over at her finally. Luna smiled at her with one tear streaking down her cheek. “But I miss having the comfort of a strong man who loves me.”

Clarke had no response. Clarke had no words. She just stared at Luna.

Luna smiled at Clarke. “You and I are more similar than you know, Clarke com Skaikru, and that is why I know that I forgive you when you can’t forgive yourself. And that is why I tell you this. I do not regret a moment of the love that I gave and I am thankful for all the love that I have received, even though I have lost those I loved. Love is worth the risk.”

Clarke blinked at her. Speechless. 

Luna reached out and hugged her. And then she left. Clarke’s legs folded beneath her and she sat on the balcony, underneath the arching sky, with the mountains, purple and misty in the distance.

***

It did not surprise her when Bellamy sat down next to her, not very much later.

“Hey,” he said.

She kept looking out at the mountains. His voice soothed her, even in her anxiety. His presence made her feel safe, even though her thoughts would not stop spinning through her head. 

“Luna told me she asked you to live with her.”

He huffed a laugh. “Did you really think I would go?”

“Why wouldn’t you? I did. You could have peace. A chance to start over without all this pain and guilt. You are free to go.”

She felt him tense beside her. “No, I’m not,” he said and his voice was icy. 

“Bellamy…” she said, suddenly sorry. He was glaring at her. 

“Dammit, Clarke—“ he started, then rubbed a hand over his face. “Never mind,” he finished. “Come on. We’ve got to make an early start in the morning if we’re going to get home on time. We’d better drag Raven out of there. You know how crazy these grounders can get when they party.”

He stood up and turned to leave.

“Bellamy, wait…” she said wanting to say something, not really sure what she had done wrong. She climbed to her feet, shaking. “I’m sorry,” she said, because she knew she’d said the wrong thing and she wasn’t sure why it was wrong.

“For what?”

She blinked at him. She wanted to reach out to him, but his whole body radiated anger. “I didn’t mean… I just meant that you’re free to make your own choices, to go where you need to, if you want to, you should be free, I don’t want to make you feel like you are obligated or forced or have to…” She felt herself stumbling over her own words, wishing she had it all straight in her head but it wasn’t. Her thoughts were all tied up together with her emotions and her memories and her hopes. 

He tilted his head and watched her fail to articulate anything, but at least the anger faded. He sighed and his shoulders drooped. His jaw tensed, but his eyes were so compassionate.

“Dammit,” he said, and reached out to pull her towards him, unresisting, as he wrapped his arms around her, gently. “I’m not being forced to stay, Clarke. You aren’t making me. No one is. This is where I belong.”

His hands ran up and down her back, soothing. Clarke nodded, not having any response. Her eyes fluttered closed and she was surprised, again, to find tears starting when she shouldn’t feel sad at all. She wanted to be in Bellamy’s arms. 

He ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her face. “It’s okay,” he said. “I got you, Clarke.”

So she rested her head on his shoulder and just cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went somewhere I was not really expecting it to go. Sorry that it got more angsty than I promised. I thought this was all going to be fluff.   
> Fooled you.


	7. Simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is injured. Clarke needs to treat him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> Bellamy always have cuts on his face and Clarke is almost doctor. How can it be that she has never repaired his cuts?? That situation has to happen. The tension of being separated by few centimetres! So...Here is my prompt!
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> Oh I've seen that you are getting prompts. This is a headcanon that I saw on a tumblr page. Bellamy has a wound on his back and Clarke wants to take a look. It's the first time that she sees Bellamy shirtless and she gets nervous ;)

Not all the grounders liked Luna’s new rules. And not all the grounders liked her alliance with the sky people, and on the way back from Polis, they were ambushed. 

It was a short altercation, but Bellamy, gun firing, was tackled from behind and beaten before Miller and Bryan pulled them off of him, quickly dispatching them. Clarke was the only one who saw the bowman in the trees who took aim at Bellamy’s unprotected back.

Clarke shot the warrior without hesitation, at the same time he pulled back the string of the bow, then watched in horror as the arrow loosed, and struck Bellamy in the back. He stumbled and fell forward, with a cry of pain.

Clarke gasped and ran to him. 

“Come back here and take cover,” Raven called, but she didn’t listen. Neither did she hear as her team continued to to fight off the attackers, nor when the shooting stopped because all of the warriors were dead.

She didn’t notice anything but Bellamy laying there. Moaning.

She took a breath. He was moaning, at least. That meant he was alive.

She knelt by his side and brushed his hair back. “Bellamy?”

His head turned and he looked at her, grimacing. “I’m okay,” he said.

She could barely hear his words through the blood pounding through her ears. “You have an arrow in your back. I’ll tell you if you’re okay,” she said.

He laughed. “Always so bossy.”

“Shut up,” she said, trying to resist a smile of relief. He was teasing her. “How’s your breathing?” she asked, listening carefully to his chest.

“Fine, Clarke, fine.”

He tried to push himself up but when he got his hands underneath him, he groaned again and fell onto the earth.

“Stop, Bellamy. Stop. Let me take care of you.”

“The others…” he said.

She looked up. Miller was armed to the teeth, with Bryan at his back, both of them staring off, fiercely, into the woods, searching for any more attackers.

Miller caught her eye, and she could see the worry in his face. She nodded slightly, turning back to Bellamy.

“They’ve got it handled. You’ve trained them well.”

“Help me up,” he said.

“Not yet. I need to get this shirt off of you.”

He muttered something that sounded like, “I imagined you saying that under different circumstances,” but that didn’t make any sense.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just get the damn arrow out.” He worked to sit up without using his arms. She held him down with one hand on his uninjured shoulder and he settled into the ground.

“Bellamy, knock that off. You know just yanking it out could do worse damage. Please. Please, let me take care of you.” She found herself whispering the last words into his ear, her hand on his shoulder.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, then nodded.

Raven brought over her med kit, placing it next to her. She picked up the shears right on top and neatly sliced up the back of his shirt, pulling it open so she could inspect the wound. 

She almost laughed in relief. Maybe her gunshot had thrown the archer’s pull off. It had been a weak shot, the barbs still stuck above the skin. She could removed the head of the arrow without further damage. “It’s shallow. Just a muscle wound,” she said. “I’m going to take it out.”

He sighed. “I told you I was fine.”

“Shut up,” she said, unable to keep the grin from her face. He would be fine. She prodded his wound with her finger tip and he winced. “Baby,” she said and then just yanked. 

“Jesus Clarke!” he yelled. “What the hell, warn a guy next time.”

“Okay, here it comes,” she said and then doused his wound with moonshine, and then pressed a cloth to it while he hissed. She leaned over him. “Are you okay?” she said quietly. She knew he was okay. She could see he was. She couldn’t help but ask. 

He looked back at her. “It hurts, but I’ve had worse.”

She pulled her brows together. And shook her head. She didn’t like that he’d had worse wounds. She could see the scars. There were too many on his skin. She ran her hand down his back, the muscles firm, the skin soft and velvety. “I got you, Bellamy. I’ll take care of you,” she said, barely louder than a whisper. Her throat nearly closed.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I know you will.”

Her heart stuttered inside of her chest. Suddenly she realized she was stroking his back. She cleared her throat and looked up at Miller. “This is the archer’s gear,” he said. “No poisons or antidotes. I don’t think the arrow was poisoned.”

“Good,” she said. They had a comprehensive selections of antidotes, but that always made things more complicated. This was just a simple wound and she smiled. “Do we have time to suture him?”

Miller’s eyebrows were drawn together seriously. He did not look like someone she wanted to anger right now. Bryan was scanning the heavy woods around them. 

“No, Clarke. We need to get to cover,” Bellamy said from the ground. “Do it later. This isn’t an emergency.”

“In the rover!” Miller cried at the first indication from Bellamy. “Raven, you’re driving. Bryan help Clarke get him in the rover.” Everyone started moving under his orders.

“I can walk,” he said, “Just help me up.” 

Clarke helped him get his weight under him and he stood. A fresh wash of blood soaked the bandage she held to is back.

“Damn you, Bellamy. Let me fix this.”

He looked down at her. “These are outlaw grounders, Clarke. They don’t hold to Luna’s law. They don’t like us and we just killed their party. We can’t risk it. Do it in the rover.”

He urged her in the back of the car and he followed, grunting, with Bryan’s assistance. 

Clarke found herself fluttering around him as he climbed in and sat on the bench. Bryan took shot gun and Miller stood in the turret, his rifle out, eyes on the trees. Raven revved the engines and then they were off down the ancient, rutted road, back home.

The movement and lack of pressure on his wound had sent a fresh sheet of blood running down his side. 

“Lie down, Bellamy,” Clarke said. “Let me treat you. You’re bleeding too much.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Clarke, what do you think I’ve done every time I’ve been injured when you were away? Just sterilize it, wrap it up and your mom will take care of it when we get back. You don’t think I’m letting you anywhere near me with a suture needle while the rover is jolting around like a damaged shuttle, do you?”

Clarke glared at him. He ignored her and peered through the windows, on the look out. The shreds of the shirt she had sliced up the back fell down onto his arm and, he made a frustrated noise and pulled the shirt off. Handing it to her. “Here, this shirt is done. Use it for bandaging or something.”

Clarke took the shirt, but had no words. 

She swallowed.

He was beautiful. 

She’d never seen him with his shirt off. How was it possible? But it had to be, because she would have remembered THIS. She would have remembered his smooth, tan skin, even marked by scars. The sculpted muscles and the broad shoulders. He glistened with sweat and that actually snapped her back to business. 

She pressed her hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling okay? Feverish?” Truth be told she felt a little feverish. She looked at his face closely for the first time. It was cut up and bruised from the first grounders who had attacked him. She touched the cut under his eye. 

He looked down at her and she realized for the first time how close they were.

“You worry too much, Clarke.”

She ran a thumb over his eyebrow. Slid her hand down the side of his face. “Of course I do,” she said, and it was true. But she didn’t have a right to it, didn’t have a right to the feelings that were welling in her, so she said, “I’m your doctor.”

He didn’t release her gaze, but his lips quirked. “You’re not a doctor.”

She ducked her head, hiding both the tear and the grin. He was teasing her. She took a deep breath in. “Be that as it may, I’m the one treating you,” and so she did. Ignoring the filthy t shirt for the bandages in the med kit. Cleaning the wound and packing it, reaching around his broad chest to wrap the bandages, multiple times. Holding her breath as she felt his warm strength in her arms, felt his skin against hers. She shouldn’t be this close to him. It wasn’t necessary. She didn’t care. 

“We should be back at Arkadia within the hour,” he said, when she slid back around to sit in front of him on the bench. “Your mom can finish up, but I feel better already.” He looked better, actually. She raised her hand to touch the wounds on his face.

“Am I allowed to treat these, too?”

His brows drew together in confusion. “Why wouldn’t you be allowed?”

“I don’t know, because you have to show me what a tough guy you are?”

He laughed. “You’re my doctor, Clarke, why would I need to show you that.”

Clarke grinned, “I’m not a doctor.”

His smile spread wide and Clarke’s heart started doing that thing again. 

“I put my face in your hands, medical trainee Griffin,” he said. 

“I’ll do my best to keep you pretty, guardsman Blake,” she said. 

And she did, cleaning and bandaging his wounds in between snapping at him to stop grinning so she could get the bandages straight. But she was grinning, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you catch the Olicity reference?


	8. It Wasn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy adopts a puppy he finds on one of his hunting and gathering missions.
> 
> Clarke doesn't... 
> 
> She doesn't at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> Maybe isn't the typical prompt but I would love a scene where Bellamy is being sweet and attentive with an animal because people who love animals are my weakness ^^ and obviously, Clarke sees this and drools over him.

Clarke saw Bellamy first when he came back from his hunting trip. 

It wasn’t because she was waiting for him, that wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t like it was the first time that he’d gone out on some hunting and gathering mission with too little back up. It was just that she felt like getting a little sun, out by the fire pits, on this warm day. She was drawing in the sketch book that Bellamy had brought back from his last hunting and gathering mission. He’d come into the med bay with something hiding behind his back and refused to tell her what it was until she’d begged. Which she had, laughing all the way.

It wasn’t that she was waiting for whatever surprises he might bring, or the smile he gave her while waiting for her reaction. It wasn’t any of that. And her heart didn’t start racing when they opened the gate and Bellamy strode through with Harper and Miller. They were giving him the strangest looks, and he was hunched over, his head down, his arms wrapped around himself, holding onto his stomach.

She found herself running before she even consciously thought about it. The charcoals abandoned with the sketch book on the ground next to the fire pit. 

“What’s the matter?” she asked anxiously her hands reaching for him before she knew what she was doing. “Where are you injured? I got you. Show me.” She pulled his arms out to see the wound.

He laughed. “Woah! Hold on a minute, doc.” He resisted her grasp and she looked up at his face. He wasn’t in pain. He was smiling. His eyes sparkling. He unzipped his jacket to show her.

She took a step back. 

“What is that?”

He followed her step and leaned closer to her, holding his jacket open to show her a mottled ratty thing squirming there.

“That,” he said, “is a puppy.”

It poked it’s nose up, twitching, sharp needle teeth and a pink tongue.

“No it’s not.”

It blinked as if the sun were too bright. It’s eyes were black and slitted nearly closed.

“Oh it is. We found it in a nest with the rest of the litter. It was the last one. All the rest had died. I don’t know where the mother went.”

He held it up and touched his nose to the little black nose. The puppy licked him, and his face lit up into the biggest smile she’d ever seen.

Clarke’s heart stopped beating. She just stood there and blinked at him as he hugged it, and cuddled it.

“So you decided to keep it?” The words got out of her mouth. She knew they sounded some what offended. She didn’t know why, unless she was offended at the way she could barely take in the sight of him cuddling the ugly, wrinkled, spotted little thing as if he was pure joy.

Pure joy.

Bellamy held the puppy up. “He’s a boy, Clarke. I’m going to call him Argos.”

Clarke choked as he cuddled the puppy again. Gripping her fists at her side to keep from reaching out.

“Miller wanted to leave it,” Harper said, grinning at Clarke, “but Bellamy wouldn’t let us.” She reached over to scratch the pup on his tummy. He wriggled in Bellamy’s arms, his little legs squirming.

“I couldn’t leave him, Clarke,” she said, and gave her that smile again. “I gave him some jerky and now he loves me. Look, Clarke!” He held the puppy up, and the puppy twisted around to lick his face, enthusiastically. Bellamy laughed and hugged him. 

“Of course he does,” Clarke said, and made her excuses.

She didn’t run off behind the med center to clutch at her heart and catch her breath. She wasn’t affected by Bellamy adopting a puppy, at all. It wasn't proof of anything at all.


	9. Self Defense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke convinced Bellamy to teach her self defense.
> 
> Things get up close and personal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> Bellamy: Come on, you couldn't take me one-on-one! Clarke: What do you bet? Here is my prompt. Play fighting is flirting ;)
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> Hi Rosy! I have a prompt: Bellamy teaching Clarke how to fight. I mean, fight: Body space between them: Zero?, their faces separated by few centimetres, sexual tension.... ;)

Every time Bellamy taught another class of cadets about hand to hand combat, and she watched them file out of the practice hall, exhausted and sweaty, and… happy, Clarke shook her head at their optimism and innocence.

But then there was the day when she was hanging around, just because she was done work for the day, and she saw Bellamy leave the practice hall. His skin was glowing and his shirt hadn’t quite settled right, baring his collarbone. She could see the sheen of sweat there. She swallowed and stepped up to him.

“Teach me to fight, Bellamy,” she said.

“Well hello, Clarke. Where did you come from?”

“Just got out of work at the med bay.”

“And how is training going?”

“It’s good, I got to sit in on a surgery— wait. No. I meant it, don’t distract me. Teach me to fight.” His grin was distracting.

“You don’t need to learn how to fight, Clarke. You’re a badass. You fought panthers barehanded. You’ve taken down trained warriors and guards and armies.”

She huffed out a breath and reached out a hand to stop him. He turned to her.

“I’m serious, Bellamy. I need to know how to fight hand to hand. Every time I won, I got lucky, or I was sneaky. But there’s going to come a day when someone is just better than me or my luck will run out, and then what am I going to do?”

“Like with Luna?” he asked, his voice low and rumbling. His eyebrow cocked at her. She narrowed her eyes back at him. 

“Like I said. I got lucky. She beat me and didn’t destroy us, but she could have. What if it had been Emerson who was faster and more wary? What would have happened then?”

Bellamy compressed his lips and drew his brows together. She realized that she still had her hand on his forearm. Holding on. 

She dropped her hand, bit her lip. “I need to be better, because I won’t always be lucky.”

He looked at her appraisingly. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right. You should know how to protect yourself and not always depend upon luck. I just don’t really like the idea that you think you’re going to go around getting into hand to hand combat. You’re supposed to be learning how to be a doctor and going to diplomatic meetings.”

Clarke laughed. “This is the ground. I think I have to be ready to fight, don’t you?”

He scrunched his nose. “Yeah, you’re right. You want to meet me after your shift tomorrow, and I can get you started once my cadets leave.”

She didn’t stop to think about it, just reached out and grabbed his hand. “Are you busy now?”

“Now?” He asked, looking a bit shocked as she led him back to the door he just came out of.

“Are you too tired? Did those kids wear you out,” she teased.

He laughed. “Yeah, all right. Let’s do this now.” And let her lead him inside.

Bellamy flipped the light and it came blinking on. This was his space, and he went over, pulling the mats out, telling her what he wanted her to know. She wasn’t really listening.

He stopped and looked up. “You’re not exactly dressed for training, here, Clarke.”

“I’ll make do,” Clarke said. She took off her jacket. Kicked off her boots. She was going to stop at that, but the shirt was new. She pulled it off and stood in her bra. It wasn’t much less cover than some of the training outfits she’d seen the other girls walk around in.

Bellamy choked a bit.

Clarke looked up at him and smiled. “I really like that shirt. I don’t want to rip it,” she said.

He nodded, gave her a look that she couldn’t quite decipher, then reached behind his head and pulled his own shirt off, slowly. First his abs, then his pecs were revealed and she was glad his shirt was over his face because he couldn’t see her reaction and she had time to school her expression. 

By the time he tossed his shirt off to the corner, she was ready. This was a competition now. For what, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to let him beat her.

He stared back at her and she smiled, her hand going to the button of her pants. She saw him blink and gape at her as she peeled off her pants, leaving her in only her boy shorts and her bra. She kicked the pants to land in a pile semi near where her other clothes were. “My pants are too confining,” she said. Her outfit was now a bit more revealing than any of the training outfits she’d seen the other girls in, but not by that much. Well. Maybe a little. 

She saw him swallow heavily, wondered if he was up to the challenge. But he just nodded. “Mine aren’t,” he said and turned to walk into the center of the matt. She’d won this round, and she wasn’t sure if she was glad about that or disappointed. 

He turned to face her and planted his feet, raising one hand and gesturing to her to come forward.

“All right, show me what you got.”

“Yeah, okay,” Clarke nodded, the adrenaline speeding up her heart rate. Normal, she though. It was normal to be excited by the thought of hand to hand combat. She licked her lips and stepped up to face him. 

He had a grin on his face, and her first instinct wasn’t to fight him.

She cleared her throat and shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’d never just go up to someone and attack them from the front. That would be stupid,” she could feel the face she made, remembering what she’d tried with Luna. She’d underestimated her. And that was stupid. Everyone always underestimated her, and it was how she had gotten as far as she had. 

She turned her back on Bellamy. “Make it realistic, Bellamy. Make it like someone grabbing me from behind.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “That’s a better idea. You ready?”

She nodded. But when he came up behind her and grabbed her, an arm around her throat, her pulse skyrocketed. It was nothing at all what she’d felt before. It was pure panic. Her head buzzed and got hot and tight. Emerson’s chemical smoke smell filled her nostrils. The sight of Bellamy and Raven and Monty and the rest dying of asphyxiation flashed through her head. She took a shaky breath. She was trembling.

“It’s okay, Clarke, it’s okay to be scared,” Bellamy whispered softly in her ear. “It’s just me. You’re safe.” His arm gentled around her. “Do you want to stop?”

She put a hand to his arm around her neck. Felt his familiar warm skin. Breathed in his familiar scent of musk and pine and a little bit of gunpowder. His own sweat. She felt her bare feet planted on the mats, and flexed her toes. The lights flickered. She took a slow, deep breath.

Shaking her head, she said, “No, I can do it.” It came out quieter than she intended. She focused.

“Tell me if you need to tap out, okay?”

“I will,” she said, and smiled at his concern. She swallowed the tight feeling in her throat. His arm wasn’t pressed up against her windpipe anymore. He was going easy on her. Everyone always underestimated her, she thought, and her smile turned to a grin. Right. 

Without warning, Clarke spun in his arms and took a step towards him, pressing her body up against his from hip to shoulder, she laid her thumb against his carotid artery and pressed, feeling his pulse, strong and fast.

“Got you. I carry a scalpel up my sleeve,” she said. Her voice was still shaky, but she pressed harder on his neck, thrilling with the way his pulse sped up under her thumb. “You’re dead.”

Bellamy looked down at her from so close. “Do you really?” he asked her, and she could feel his breath puff on her cheek She spread the rest of her fingers on the other side of his neck, enjoying his heat, the strong cords of his muscles under her fingers.

She swallowed. “I do.”

She watched as a smile spread on his face. “Good,” he said, “That’s smart.”

His pride in her rang through his voice and she had a hard time suppressing the tingle down her spine at his words. She felt her own smile growing, and then all of a sudden, he had flipped her over his hip and she was flying through the air to land on her back, forcing the air out of her lungs.

He was on top of her, his hips pressing her hips into the mat, and his arms holding hers down. 

She gasped. Trying to catch her breath as his weight limited her movement. As his nearness set all of her nerve endings into overdrive.

“You’re not wearing a shirt, Clarke,” he said, his voice husky. “You’ve got no sleeves.” His breath tickled her ear. “You left your weapon behind.”

She meant to say it was not fair.

She meant to tell him that she would be armed if they weren’t sparring.

She meant to defend herself with words, but she had none.

All she could do was close her eyes and drop her head back against the mat as his hot breath bathed over her neck and his body entirely covered hers. His bare skin against hers. She felt his hands, pinning her wrists release and she was so glad because all she wanted was to wrap her arms around him…

“Bellamy!” The door squeaked. “Can you do something about your guards, they won’t let me and Emori—oh! Oh ho ho ho.” 

Clarke’s eyes flew open and met Bellamy’s, his pupils blown, his face flushed. He shook his head and jumped up, reaching down to help Clarke rise.

“No, by all means, don’t let me interrupt,” Murphy said, his sly face wearing the stupidest shit eating grin Clarke had ever seen. 

“He was teaching me self defense,” Clarke said. She knew she sounded defensive. 

Murphy raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Clearly.”

“She was losing,” Bellamy added. Humor in his voice. She would have hit him, but she saw him swallow heavily, she saw how flushed his skin was. 

“Was she?” Murphy said. 

Clarke gaped at his insinuation. “I would have won if I had my scalpel!” Clarke cried. 

Bellamy rocked back on his heels, giving her a doubtful look, coming back to himself. “Oh is that so? I’m going to have to see your rig, How easy is it for you to draw your weapon. You said it’s up your sleeve? Show me. Why did you take your shirt off if you knew you had a weapon?

“I didn’t want to rip my shirt! I told you. It’s not like I’d really use a scalpel on you, I’m not actually trying to kill you, just play kill you.”

“As if you actually could,” he scoffed. 

Clarke gasped. “How dare you? I’ll have you know that it’s not the first time I’ve surprised someone.”

“Yes, yes, we’ve already discussed your element of surprise, we’re supposed to be getting you prepared to fight against someone who already knows you’re dangerous, not someone who thinks you’re helpless.”

Clarke walked over and retrieved her shirt, getting ready to show him the clever pocket she’d sewn inside of her sleeve, up against her skin where it wouldn’t be spotted in a casual pat down.

“Seriously?” Murphy said from the door. “You’re training?”

Clarke and Bellamy both glared at him. “Yes, we were training!” Bellamy said.

“What did you think we were doing?” Clarke added.

Murphy just rolled his eyes. “You two are pitiful,” he said and turned to leave.

“Hey! Murph!” Bellamy stopped him before he left. “I don’t want to hear that you and Emori have snuck out of the walls. We’re not going to be held to blame for any of your “scavenging missions.” Robbery is not scavenging. Luna is not going to put up with that shit, do you understand? And I don’t want to see you imprisoned anymore. We’re done with that, you hear me?”

He rolled his eyes again. “Yes, dad,” he said, his voice mocking.

“Murphy,” Clarke echoed warningly. 

“Yes, mom.”

Clarke glared at him fiercely and Murphy made a face. “We just wanted to go to the lake and have a swim away from all these idiots, okay? We weren’t planning to rob anyone.”

“You’d better not be, Murphy. We’re glad you’re home and we want you to stay.” She said it like a threat.

“Yeah, well back at you,” Murphy spat, and turned to go, leaving the door to swing closed, slowly.

“Prick!” she called after him.

“Bitch!” he tossed back over his shoulder. 

She turned to grin at Bellamy, but he was busy getting dressed, already clothed and tying up his boots. Disappointment shot through her.

“I want to see your knife rig,” he said. He didn’t even look at her, just took the shirt from her and began examining the little pocket she’d sewn, peering at the opening and the stitches, like it was the most important thing in the world. 

She took the hint and pulled her pants back on, stepping into her boots and lacing them up. 

He nodded and looked up. “Put it on and show me how you draw the scalpel.” He tossed the shirt to her and she pulled it over her head, her heart like a stone. 

“You know,” he said, as she showed him how she got the scalpel out. “We can do better than this. That’s too hard to draw in an emergency. We need to bring Raven into this training. She’s used to little knives. I bet she has some insight into this. And it wouldn’t hurt to have our biggest brain also able to protect herself better if it came to that, right?”

“Oh definitely,” Clarke said. He was totally right. Both of them should know how to defend themselves it got into a close up thing. Neither of them were warriors. “We should probably bring Monty and my Mom into it, too. Just because we’re not one of your guardsmen doesn’t mean we should be helpless.”

“Great idea, Clarke,” and he smiled at her warmly, friendly, like his hips hadn’t just been pressed up against hers, and their hearts hadn’t just been beating as one.


	10. Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Clarke sleeps next to Bellamy, she actually sleeps, and the nightmares don't bother her. But she's not with Bellamy, so has to engineer opportunities in a more official capacity.
> 
> Abby notices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> daydreamingdesiheart said:  
> Hey girl! Congrats again on hitting 1200! :) Taking you up on that prompt offer! I love me some Kabby and Bellarke parallels♥ Canon verse- post s4 finale, Kane and Abby observing and talking about Bellamy and Clarke.
> 
> Anonymous said: Inspired by bellamyblakeprotectionsquad2k16- can you write bellarke moving in together? maybe it could be a comfort thing, with one of them waking up after a nightmare and the other comforting them?? canon verse, post s3. thanks rosy.
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> I'm going to steal a quote of one of your anons because it's a beautiful headcanon. "Imagine Clarke having nightmares and Bellamy comforting her, brushing her hair and cuddling her" This is my prompt for your list.
> 
> This one was hard, because I am doing this series from Clarke’s pov, so it was hard for me to figure out how to parallel Kabby, or how to have them observing Bellarke. So I stuck the comforting/nightmares in there, had Abby come to a decision about their relationship, as their doctor (I rewatched the first two eps of season 3 and saw how Abby tried to help Jasper with his mental health. She didn’t do very well because she’s not a psychologist, but she tried) and decided to write this. Hope it works.

“I’ll go,” was apparently Clarke’s refrain, lately.

Every time there was a diplomatic mission where they needed someone who could speak for the Sky People, Clarke volunteered. Her mother would smile and look on her with pride, and Clarke would run off to get her pack ready, so Abby wouldn’t read her real motivation. She knew that her mother thought it meant that Clarke was stepping up into the authority that she had refused since Polis and the COL. 

The truth was that Clarke volunteered to visit the other villages on over night trips because she knew that Bellamy would always volunteer to go with her. That made Kane happy, her mother had admitted to her that he wanted Bellamy to take over as chancellor some day, and learning to be a diplomat would help. Abby had asked Clarke to help him with that, and Clarke nodded and agreed and pretended that all of this actually had anything to do with diplomacy, leadership or her people.

Clarke tossed her travel food, med kit and extra clothes in her pack. She stuffed the compact, soft blue bundle into the last available space, her fingers stroking the worn fabric once. Bellamy’s shirt. She’d never given it back to him, and she didn’t intend to. She slept with it under her pillow sometimes.

She fastened the toggles on her pack and lifted it to her shoulders, heading out to meet Bellamy at the rover bay. Her heart sped up at the thought. Because that was the real reason she volunteered for these diplomatic missions. Bellamy was the real reason. 

She missed him. And it was ridiculous, because she saw him many times a day. In Arkadia. After work. At all the meals they could manage. After hours around the camp fire.

The problem was, that unless she got drunk, which was all too rare, Clarke never had a reason to stay the night with Bellamy.

They weren’t a couple. 

They weren’t romantic. 

They weren’t together and it was a problem, because it was only if Bellamy was with her that she could get a good night’s sleep. She’d even tried to stay with some of her other friends. Raven had to slap her awake after she’d started kicking her in her sleep, deep in a dream of being pinned by Emerson. Her night terrors had freaked Monty out so much that he couldn’t sleep for three nights running. Her mom didn’t help either. Clarke woke up once or twice a night, with Abby sitting on the edge of her bed, stroking her hair and singing a lullaby, while her heart beat slowed to normal. 

So if she volunteered to go on missions with Bellamy so that she could lay her bed roll next to his and sleep without nightmares, did she really have to admit it to anyone? 

When she got to the rover bay, the first person she saw was not Bellamy at all. It was her mother.

“Mom, what are you doing here? Are you going on the mission?” Clarke asked, confused when Abby nodded. “Well why did you need me to go to speak for the Arkadians, then?”

Abby smiled again and held her pack out. Clarke felt someone bump her shoulder. She turned to find Bellamy. His smile was brilliant. “Hey,” he said. “Let me stow your pack.” He took Abby’s pack and put it under the seats in the back before turning to take Clarke’s, too.

“Oh, I’m not going as a diplomat this time, Clarke,” Abby said. “This village was built around a medical complex. They have far more advanced healing techniques than any of the nearby communities. I’m coming with you as a doctor, to learn and to share what I know with the other healers.”

Abby smiled and climbed in the back of the rover with the rest of the company. Miller, Harper, and a couple of Abby’s junior doctors. Clarke tried to offer her the front seat, but she deferred, saying she wanted to discuss medical things with her team, and Clarke needed to focus on the diplomacy side with Bellamy. She tried to argue that she was a med trainee, too, but her mother just waved at her. “Not this time, Clarke.”

The trip was harder than expected, and they had to stop to clear the path so many times that night fell and they had to camp before reaching the village. If it had just been Clarke and Bellamy, they would have slept under the stars, but her mother had her team set up the group tent, and everyone took their rest under canvas that night.

Abby set out her sleeping roll on the left side of Clarke’s, and Bellamy left his still rolled on the other side of her. She felt a moment of panic when he left the tent.

“I’m taking first watch,” he announced to the tent. “Miller, you’re second. Harper, you’re third.” Neither of them even glanced at him. They just pulled their blankets up and fell asleep. It wasn’t news to them.

Bellamy looked at her. “I can take a watch,” Clarke said. She didn’t like the way her voice sounded almost pleading. Bellamy pulled his mouth to one side and shook his head. “No, you need to rest.”

“So do you!” she snapped back. He never took care of himself. 

“Clarke,” Abby interrupted. “You need to make sure you get enough sleep tonight. A watch will interrupt what little sleep you do get. This is an important meeting you have in the morning. Bellamy will be okay. Leave him be.”

Clarke glared at her mother. She didn’t like it when anyone mentioned her problem. Bellamy nodded his agreement with Abby. Clarke glared at him, too. But when he ducked out of the tent, he tossed a smile back at her, so she settled down and tried to get to sleep. Surprisingly, she fell asleep so quickly that the next thing she knew, it was dark, and her mother’s cool hand was stroking her forehead. Abby was whispering the old lullaby in her ear, and her heart rate was slowing.

“Did I scream?” Clarke asked her mother, not wanting to disturb the whole party and have her nightmares exposed.

Abby shook her head. “No, I got to you early enough. The nightmare was just starting, I think. Is this going to be a bad night?”

Shreds of the dream came back to her, she almost had Charlotte. Her fingers were grasping the girl’s but she slipped through her hands and fell and fell and fell. Clarke tried to shake the dream off and swallowed heavily, looking to her right. Bellamy’s roll was still tight.

“Where’s Bellamy?” she asked, trying to still the panic. 

A figure stood. “I’ll send him in,” Miller said in the darkness. She couldn’t see his face, but his voice was kind. She supposed her friends already knew about her nightmares. “My watch starts in five minutes.”

Clarke nodded to him and he left. “I’m okay, mom,” she said and laid down again, feeling Abby’s concern in the dark of the tent. She was tired. She was always tired. Despite her racing pulse, sleep pulled her down, and she didn’t wake up again until light was filtering through the canvas and Bellamy’s arms held her tight against his chest, her face pressed up against his shirt, his warm scent surrounding her. She breathed him in, feeling rested and at ease.

Then she remembered. She looked over at her mother’s bedroll. Abby was gone and the roll was already packed. Clarke herself had abandoned her own bedroll to lie with Bellamy on his. She didn’t remember doing that at all. She tried to pull away from Bellamy but his arm tightened around her waist.

“No,” he muttered.

Clarke shoved his chest. “Bellamy, we have to get up. Everyone else is up. We should be going soon.”

“What? No.” Bellamy sat up immediately and Clarke kind of missed his arms around her, but they had to get up. “No. I didn’t sleep through the watch changes.”

“You did. So did I.”

They scrambled up and rolled up their beddings. Clarke tried to ignore that she had slept with him on his. And then they went out to the camp.

“They’re up,” Harper said, and Miller nodded, instructing the med kids to help them strike the tent and get it back in the rover.

“Oh good,” Abby said, from her seat near the fire. She held out two cups of tea to them. “I wanted to speak to you two before we left.”

Clarke took the tea while Bellamy scooped up two bowls of morning porridge, handing one to her and taking the tea. He sat next to Clarke and looked at Abby suspiciously.

“About what?” he said.

Abby pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow at the both of them. “Clarke, I think you should move in with Bellamy.”

“What?” Clarke said, feeling numb. Bellamy just blinked.

Abby lifted her hands in the air and went on. “I don’t mean to interfere in anything that is going on between the two of you,” Clarke opened her mouth to interrupt but Abby continued on, “or isn’t going on. I’m speaking to you as your doctor.”

Bellamy snorted. “You’re giving us a prescription to move in together.”

Abby huffed a breath and rolled her eyes. “Bellamy Blake, you’re managing your insomnia, but just barely. Don’t think you have been fooling me. I know you take all those watches so you don’t have to face lying awake all night. And Clarke, I haven’t seen you sleep so soundly since before your father died. The moment you touched him in your sleep, that nightmare just stopped.”

“What?” Clarke said.

“Clarke, I’ve been waking up to your nightmares since you came back to Arkadia. Sometimes four or five a night or more. It was starting to be one of those nights last night.”

“What? No.”

“Sometimes I manage to calm you before you wake up. You don’t even notice that I basically sleep with you every night.”

“What? No. What about Marcus?”

“You’re my daughter. You come first. He knows that. I need to take care of you.”

“No, mom,” Clarke said. Mortified.

“But when you slept with Bellamy, you slept peacefully. And Bellamy, not even five people waking up disturbed you.”

“I can’t allow that, I have to be alert, I have to take care of—“ Bellamy looked horrified.

“Bellamy, you don’t have to be in charge 24 hours a day. Harper and Miller were on top of everything. So was I. You need to take care of yourself. You need to rest. You need to heal. Move in together. Clarke. Bellamy. You heal each other.”

Clarke looked at Bellamy, his hands covering his face. She knew he was trying to take deep breaths to calm himself.

“You can’t just tell us to move in together, mom, we have—“

“It’s up to Clarke,” Bellamy said from behind his hand.

“What?” Clarke repeated. She was having trouble finding anything else to say.

He dropped his hand, and looked at her. He pressed his lips together. “If you want to move in with me, you should move in. If it stops your nightmares, I’ll do it.”

She wanted to sleep with him every night. She didn’t want it like this. She put her cup and bowl down and jumped up. “I have to go help them pack the tent.”

And she just left. She tried not to talk to anyone. She was shoving the giant, folded tent back into the pack when he came up behind her.

“Clarke, why did you walk off?”

Dammit. She shoved the nylon canvas harder. “I’m not some medicine that the doctor forces you to take,” she spit out, immediately regretting it. “Sorry. I just didn’t like that. My mom— my DOCTOR dictating how I should live my life. As if I have a choice. I’m ruining her life. She can’t sleep with her boyfriend because I’m a mess. What kind of person would I be if I forced her to keep taking care of me like an invalid every night. I have to move out of her apartments now anyway. I can’t take over her life.” She realized she was running her mouth. She clamped it shut. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It’s not your fault.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything. She looked up at him when she was done packing the tent. He reached down and picked it up and just looked at her until she stood.

He sighed. He looked so defeated and it broke her heart.

“I want…” he started and then shook his head. “Clarke, will you move in with me?”

“What?” she said.

“I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“You don’t want me to feel obligated?”

“Like you have to. I want you to have a choice. But I…” 

Clarke waited, but he looked away.

“But you…” she prompted.

“Your mom is right. I don’t sleep. Fifteen minutes here and there. I try to get three hours a night—“

“Three hours! Bellamy!”

“But I can’t sleep. I feel like I have to make sure everything is all right. All the time. Like I have to. I can’t stop because no one else will—“ He stopped and turned to face the woods.

She came to stand next to him, staring out to see what he saw, and just waited. “When you’re with me, I don’t feel so alone.”

“You’re not alone!” 

“I know, but I can’t help the feeling that it all depends on me and if I sleep I fail. And it doesn’t make any sense, because even if you make me feel like I’m not alone, you’re sleeping too and it’s not like you are on guard, you’re sleeping, but I don’t think it’s rational.” He fell silent again and she thought he was done. She was trying to think of what to say, of how to tell him so he’d believe that he wasn’t alone. That she was here and she wasn’t going to leave him again.

“Clarke, will you move in with me, please?” his voice was broken. “I need you.”

Her heart stopped. She was afraid to move, afraid to say the wrong thing. “Okay,” she breathed.

“What? No. No . That’s not the way I wanted it. You are not obligated. You don’t have to just because I say—“

“Bellamy,” she put a hand to his arm and turned him to face her. “I need you, too, okay? We need each other. I got you and you got me. That’s the way we work, right?”

He looked at her. “I didn’t know your nightmares were that bad.”

“They aren’t when I’m with you.”

“So we’re moving in together? Isn’t this weird?”

Clarke bit her lip and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just want to.” The look she gave him was full of questions.

He nodded. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to point out that this is a nod, also, to what Bob said about Clarke and Bellamy needing to heal from their emotional pain. Yes, my dear Bob, they DO need to heal.


	11. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Unity day, a year after landing on Earth, and while their friends are celebrating rowdily, Bellamy and Clarke search out a moment of peace and solitude together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> Hi Rosy I have a prompt. It's a good night, good excuse to lie down in the ground to see stars. Bellamy is a nerd, he knows about astrology too and Clarke loves to hear him. Suddenly, a shooting star.
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> Hi Rosy! I have a prompt. An Unity Day or something like that where delinquents can have a break, Bellarke is subtle flirting and finally get that damn drink.
> 
>  
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> A prompt: Clarke and Bellamy get some well deserved Moonshine/alcohol with their friends.. HOWEVER, while the others get a wee bit drunk, B & C just pretend to drink and keep pouring their drinks away when the others aren't looking, because they don't want to get drunk and spill their secrets / tell each other things they don't necessarily want to admit to themselves, not yet.
> 
> I think I managed to get all these prompts in here. I wasn't sure I could.

It was a year after landing on Earth, and Unity day had come again.

Clarke sat at the bonfire and watched her friends drink and toast to life. They made speeches about those they had lost and generally make happy/sad fools of themselves. Clarke just held onto her cup of moonshine, without drinking much at all. 

Something was holding her back. Something was missing. Something was keeping her from joining in all the fun, and to keep from ruining her friends’ good time, she dumped her cup into the ground and held it out for refills, taking only tiny sips that barely wet her lips for the toasts. She didn’t want them to notice that she was not celebrating with them. And with Raven and Octavia and Monty and Jasper and Miller and Harper all keeping a close eye on her, that was hard.

But as the night went on and the moonshine hit them harder, Clarke watched their attention turned less to her and more to their jokes and dancing and sad songs, and she relaxed her act. Fell silent. 

When she saw Bellamy walking towards them from across the camp she realized what had been missing. What she had been waiting for. She sighed in relief and put her cup to her lips, hiding her expression in it as he sat down at the bonfire next to her.

“Not singing along?” Bellamy asked, nodding his head at the delinquents, whose sad song had devolved into hysterics, because no one could remember the words and Jasper was making up lyrics having to do with a chicken and Miller’s best beanie.

Clarke shrugged. She was waiting for him, she thought. “Not feeling it,” she said. “Where have you been? I thought you didn’t have watch tonight? Miller said his dad took you off rotation so you could celebrate all your victories.” She said it in a teasing tone of voice, and shoved him with her shoulder. 

He looked at her with an odd look. “I just had to make sure everything was okay,” he said, and stared off at the guard stand.

Of course he was being responsible. That was Bellamy. He had a hard time letting go and loosening up. And she knew he didn’t think of anything that had happened over the last year as a victory. Neither did she. She didn’t know why she said it like that. Maybe the moonshine was affecting her a little. She held her cup out to him. “You wanna catch up?”

He laughed and took the cup, taking a big drink. “Wow.” He said. Blinking and choking just a little bit. 

Clarke laughed at him and pounded on his back. “I should have warned you about that. This batch was pretty potent. Monty was experimenting with some herbs, and it turns out, they maybe have their own intoxicating properties.”

He stopped coughing, but Clarke continued to rub his back. She took the cup back and took a sip because she needed it. 

“Are they all drinking that?” He asked, lowering his voice and leaning in like it was a secret.

“Yeah,” she said and went for another sip because he was so close and his voice made her feel things she wasn’t ready for. 

Bellamy took the cup out of her hand before she could take another swallow and tossed the drink over his shoulder. “I have something better.”

“You do?” Clarke leaned into him and grinned. “What is it?”

He opened his jacket and showed her a corked bottle in his pocket. “Pear Brandy. Someone gave it to me at our last trading mission.”

The brandy was appealing, but he hadn’t buttoned all the buttons on his henley, and his velvety skin was pretty appealing, too. She licked her lips. “Bellamy I think they were flirting with you. Pear Brandy sounds like an invitation for a drink, to me.”

He laughed and ducked his head. “Yeah, maybe,” he said. He peeked up at her through his hair and his eyes flashed.”So you wanna have that drink?”

“Do we have to share with them?” she grinned, nodding at the drunk crew on the other side of the fire. This time Octavia was showing them some dance steps she’d learned from the Trikru. 

“I bet they wouldn’t even notice if we took off.” He raised an eyebrow at her and she nodded. He stood and held his hand out for her. She didn’t need him to help her stand but she wanted to hold his hand. He led her into the shadows past the flickering bonfire.

Clarke took one look back, just to see if anyone noticed them leaving, only to catch Raven’s eye. She raised her cup to Clarke and nodded. Clarke rolled her eyes. Of course it was Raven. 

Bellamy yanked on her hand and Clarke turned away, to follow him. “Where are we going, Bellamy?”

“To get away from the noise,” he said. They reached Raven’s Gate, and the guard stationed there barely even acknowledged them. He simply opened the gate and closed it behind them.

“He didn’t even ask why we were leaving, Bellamy. You should do something about that guard, he can’t possibly just let us go without questions. How is he doing his job?”

“One, he doesn’t care about gossip, why do you think I stationed him here? And two, I’m his superior. He doesn’t question me. I question him.”

Clarke blinked at him. She remembered the guard from The Ark. He was always one of the more formidable, in her opinion. Always there for official events, guarding the chancellor, looking imposing. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we Bellamy?”

“Just a little bit farther, Clarke,” he grinned, and led her through the woods. And then they were through the woods, on a steep hillside clearing.

“What’s the plan here, Bell? We gonna roll down the hill?”

He looked at her, surprised, so she clarified.

“It’s pretty steep.”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “No. I just thought we’d lay down, look at the stars. Remember where we came from. Enjoy being where we are, right now. Just a moment without a disaster?”

“Oh,” she said. And looked up at the clear view of the pin-prick lights in the sky. Where they used to live. If you could call that living. She felt tears start to well.

“No, no, no…” he said, and lead her out into the field. “No sadness. This is our celebration. I wasn’t feeling the loud laughter and jokes and singing and all that. I just… I thought you wanted to have fun, so I left you to it, but then I saw that you didn’t look like you were having fun, so I wanted to check in on you.”

“I was waiting for you.”

He blinked. “Oh.” He laughed and shook his head. “Do you want to go back and have fun then?”

“No.” She still felt the tears prickling in her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile, either. She plopped down to lay on the slope. It wasn’t very good for standing, but it was the perfect angle to lay down and look at the sky and the valley, with the ring of the Ark rising over Arkadia. 

“Come on, Bellamy,” she reached up and pulled on his hand to get him to lie next to her, and he did. She didn’t hesitate to curl into his side, with her head on his shoulder, he wrapped his arm around her. They did this now. And it made her breathe easier. “Tell me about the constellations.”

“I’m going to need a drink to break out the stories of the old gods, Clarke,” he said and grinned. 

“Well it’s a good thing you brought pear brandy, then.” she returned his smile.

“I guess it is. We should thank Layla kom Trikru then.”

“Layla!” Clarke knew the dark haired beauty with the almond eyes. “She’s hot. You shoulda had that drink with her.”

He sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the bottle, popping the cork and taking a drink. He looked up at the sky. “I should have, huh?”

She sat up too. Shit. She’d said the wrong thing. She shouldn’t have said that at all. She took the bottle from him and took a drink. The taste of pears filled her head, while the heat of the alcohol rolled down her throat, warming her stomach. She looked at him but he was still staring out, up, at the stars.

She took another drink, a bigger one, ready this time for the pears and the heat both. 

“Hey, wait. Slow down. Not so fast. You were already ahead of me.” He sat all the way up and took the bottle back. She watched his lips wrap around the bottle and his throat move as he swallowed.

“No,” she said. His eyes met hers over the bottle, shadowed in the darkness. It was easier that way. “You should not have gone with Layla. I don’t want you to. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

“I want you to say whatever you want to say.” His voice was low and trembled through her.

She closed her eyes and flopped back on the ground. “Bellamy, I don’t want to SAY any of it.” Were there even words to say it? How much she needed him? How much she wanted to be around him. How much he frightened her, How the very thought of how much he meant to her terrified her. The thought of losing him.

“Yeah, so,” he said. She felt his body lay next to hers. “Did you ever hear about Cassiopeia?”

She knew he heard her gasp of relief. “No.”

“Cassiopeia is that constellation over there, you see?” He pointed.

“I don’t see.”

He pulled her into his side and pointed. “There and there and… see?”

She swallowed, and nodded. Biting her lip to keep back her smile. 

“Cassiopeia was a queen of Ethiopia, and she made the terrible mistake of making the claim that she was more beautiful than the Nereids, the sea nymphs.”

“That sounds like a bad idea,” she said, as she cuddled into his side to listen to his stories. 

He told her about all the constellations they could see and when a shooting star streaked across the sky, she couldn’t help but remember the last time.

“Do you know what you’d wish for now?” the words popped out of her mouth before she could pull them back. She could feel the look he was giving her. He probably didn’t even remember the last time they’d talked about making a wish on a shooting star.

“Forget it,” she said.

“I’d wish to get old without fighting or any more war, maybe raise some chickens in a little house. Maybe have some kids…” he let his words fade off. While she stared at his profile by star light. “What about you? What would you wish for?” 

You, she thought. You and me together. 

But she couldn’t say it. Couldn’t get it out, so instead she told Bellamy about the view from the tower in Polis, and how she used to stare off into the distance, wishing she could see Arkadia, wishing she could be there and then also not be anywhere and maybe up in that tower felt like a good compromise. And she told him about Roan and the deals they made and about Titus and the way he sat like a spider on Polis. And she told him finally about Lexa, and how she never trusted her but she wanted to believe in her and how after a while it was just easier to believe. And she told him everything that happened and when she shivered from the cold, he wrapped her up in his arms and she tucked her hands under his jacket along the warm skin of his back. And when she had no more stories to tell he told her about Pike and Gina and her gift of the Iliad and how it always made him think of Clarke, because he imagined her like the brave Odysseus off on her journeys, while he was Penelope, waiting for her return. 

They talked until the sun came up in streaks of red and gold and then he led her back through the woods, with the morning birds chirping and the air so new. Clarke knew she should feel tired but she didn’t. The guard who let them in Raven’s Gate was just as disinterested as the guard who let them out. She and Bellamy went back to their quarters where they took off their boots and outer clothes and fell into bed, his arms around her and her arms around him, the blankets wrapped around them both and it was warm and he was with her and they fell asleep.

It felt like coming home.


	12. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they live together, there's a lot more opportunity to just spend time together, doing nothing, reading, playing with Argos, touching...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> Hi Rosy! My prompt for your fansfiction is a scene where Bellamy and Clarke are making each other smile/laugh. A simple but perfect moment of normality where the calm makes them being more intimate and touchy.
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> Hi! This is a prompt. Clarke is sitting after a hard day's work. Bellamy can be seen the tension in her shoulders. She has a cute messy bun and he can see her neck. So Bellamy cannot stop himself from putting his hands on her and to give her a massage.
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> A scene that I need in s4 is Clarke falling asleep in Bellamy's shoulder after a hard day's work and he cuddling her. So... take it like a prompt.
> 
> FrisianWanderer on Chapter 2 Thu 02 Jun 2016 05:54PM EDT
> 
> I absolutely love this! I can't wait for more, please don't keep us in suspense for too long! And a mega Kudos for putting P&P in there - it's my all time favorite novel! Maybe they can discuss the story in the upcoming chapter? :) Xx
> 
> So I’ve been asked for more puppy scenes and for more sharing bed scenes, even though they aren’t on my prompt list. Here ya go. It goes somewhere.

Clarke was exhausted. A scouting team had gotten caught in a bridge collapse, and she’d been busy in medical for hours and hours. All she wanted was to go home and relax. Well. Not really. All she wanted was to find Bellamy and go home and relax, but she was too tired to run around Arkadia looking for him. This was his day off of guard duty, training duty, and his work with Kane, and he always managed to find some adventure, some problem to solve. She knew he wouldn’t be anywhere she expected him to be. She supposed she’d just have to make do with their bed, and the pillow that smelled like him.

She opened the door to their quarters, and stopped. “Bellamy!” she said. 

He rose from his seat at the table covered with maps and notes and files. “Are you okay? Is everything okay?” he asked, crossing the small room to her. Argos followed behind him, coming up to her and wagging madly, his little speckled butt nearly knocking him off balance. Clarke swept him up and he licked her face and chin, making her smile.

“Clarke, you’re not supposed to do that. I’m trying to train him not to jump on people as greeting, and you’re just encouraging him.”

He was wiggly and enthusiastic and she could barely even hold onto him. “Aww,” she said, “sorry Argos, dad says no.” She put him back on the floor and he ran over to Bellamy, sitting and looking up at him, expectantly. 

“Good boy, Argos,” he said and gave him a bit of treat.

“I suppose he’s almost too big to pick up like that, anyway. Do we have any idea how big he’s going to get?”

Bellamy tilted his head. “The scouts have reported seeing some dogs out there that are pretty big.”

“How big?” Bellamy held his hand out at waist level. “That big? Wow.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Who knows, but that’s definitely why we don’t want him jumping on anyone while he’s little.”

“Okay, you’re right. I’ll play by your rules,” she smiled at him, but was overwhelmed with a wave of exhaustion. She dropped her head to rub at the tension in her neck.

“You’re not okay. Was it that bad?”

She rolled her head and took off her lab coat, hanging it on the back of the door. “Everyone made it, and that’s what is important. We saved Marty’s leg. It was just a long surgery. I’m getting why my mom was always so tired while I was growing up.”

She saw Bellamy flex his hands and looked at him questioningly. 

He cleared his throat. “Did you eat?”

She nodded. “Yeah, they made us all eat. I’m just tired. It turns out that surgery, even when you’re just assisting, is really hard.”

“Why don’t you take a shower and then you can go to bed.”

Clarke nodded and made a move to do that, but she turned back around before she opened the bathroom door. “Don’t you go anywhere, Bellamy.”

He smiled at her. “Where am I going to go?”

She smiled back and nodded, before heading in to clean up. Rather than relaxing her, the shower woke her. She couldn’t stop thinking about what they should have done, what they didn’t, what they needed to do next. She dried off and tied her hair up into a knot on top of her head, just to get it out of the way, and went back out to the living quarters.

Bellamy was still sitting there, pouring over the documents on the table. She stood there and watched him for a bit, too involved with his work to notice her she thought. She was wrong.

Without looking up, Bellamy said, “you gonna stare at me all night?”

Clarke sighed, stretching out the kinks in her neck. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep, Bellamy. I’m pretty wired. My brain is going a mile a minute. I mean, we never should have let that happen. Why didn’t we check the infrastructure better? Isn’t that our responsibility?”

“Clarke,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “It’s not your responsibility.”

“But—“

He stood up and crossed to her and put his hands on her arms, rubbing them soothingly. “It’s not your job. It was my team on that scouting mission.”

She glared up at him. “Well it’s not your job, either. Maybe you’re in charge of the men, but the land, the structures, we’ve got to make sure—“

“Clarke,” he said again, his hands moved up her arms to her shoulders. “While you and your mom were taking care of the injured, Kane and I got Raven’s team on constructing a new bridge and inspecting all the old infrastructure in our territory.”

“But…” she started.

“You do not have to take care of everything, Clarke.” He pressed his fingers into the muscles between her neck and her shoulders and she hissed in pain.

“My god, Clarke, you’re nothing but knots. You go sit over there on the bed. Let me give you a massage.”

“It’s okay, Bellamy. It’s nothing. I took some anti inflammatory medicine.”

“Nope, that’s not going to work. Listen, I used to do this all the time on The Ark. My mom used to do really detailed sewing work, and she’d work on it for hours. It’s really bad on the neck and back to be that focused down and hunched over.” He stood behind her and smoothed his hands down her shoulders, just his warmth making her feel better. “You’ve been taking care of people all day. I got you. Let me take care of you?” His voice was warm and musical in her ear. She could feel his breath on the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes and nodded. 

“Good,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. He placed his big hand on the back of her neck and the heat from his palm made her lean into him. He steered her towards their bed. “Sit.”

She sat and he sat behind her. He took his hand off of her neck for a moment while he got settled and she felt the loss, but he was back in no time, pressing his strong fingers into the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders and back, smoothing the knots away.

At first it hurt and she winced, and grimaced at the pain but it wasn’t long before relaxed under his ministrations, and his soft words as he told her about his day. 

“Miller chased Argos around the whole camp, before getting his beanie back,” Bellamy said, and Clarke found herself laughing, honest to god laughing.

“But it wasn’t Argos’ fault! Jasper gave the beanie to him.”

“And Miller knew that! Jasper did it to get revenge on him for that prank with the bucket the other day. That’s why after Miller got his beanie back, he chased Jasper around the whole camp before dumping him into the lake!”

“No!” Clarke laughed again and fell back against Bellamy, feeling his strong chest as he supported her while she fell over giggling. She caught her breath and rolled over, laying in Bellamy’s lap, and looking up at him. He smiled down on her.

“Feeling better?”

She nodded. “You didn’t tell me about your day. You said you spent all that time with Kane and Raven figuring out the infrastructure problem.”

“This was my day, it was just before that. You don’t need to hear about the bridges right now. You needed to relax. You’ll get the news tomorrow at the council meeting. Everything is working fine now. We’re a team. You trust me, right?”

“Of course!”

“All right, then just relax and go to sleep so we can get up and take care of everything tomorrow.”

She sighed. “Fine,” and cuddled into his lap.

He laughed. “Are you going to fall asleep in my lap?”

“Maybe…no. I’m not tired, Bellamy, I told you. My brain won’t shut up. My neck feels better, but my brain is still in overdrive.”

“Do you want me to read to you?”

She sat up suddenly. “You would do that?”

He snorted, the wrinkle between his brows appearing. “Why wouldn’t I? I used to read to Octavia all the time to help her go to sleep. You want me to get my book of Greek myths?”

“I haven’t finished Pride and Prejudice yet…” she said. 

“Not yet? You know other people are waiting for that book.”

She slapped him on his chest, “Bellamy! You know how busy I am. I don’t have that much time to read.” She noticed that her hand was still on his chest, and she didn’t really want to remove it.

He smirked at her. “Go lay down, I’ll get the book.”

“Nuh uh,” Clarke said, looking up at him through her lashes. “I need you to lay with me, so I can fall asleep with my head on your shoulder. So I don’t ruin all your hard work and get all tense again.”

His lips curved up in a smile and his chest expanded deeply. He nodded, and she climbed under the covers while he grabbed the old book of the small library shelf. Clarke wasn’t satisfied until he got in next to her and pulled her close. She could hear his heart beating, and his words rumbling in his chest and feel the heat of his body, smell his musky pine scent and she was happy. 

She fell asleep like that, with Bellamy reading the story of how Elizabeth fell in love with Darcy, against everything she ever said she’d do. 

***

Her hands ran up his chest, hot and smooth like liquid, and his ran down her sides, melting over her hips, leaving delicious electricity in their wake as they headed towards her center. She tasted his neck and wanted to swallow him, that was how much she wanted him to be a part of her. She rocked against him, feeling the heat of him against the heat of her. Pulsing. Wanting. She gasped out his name…

And woke. 

She was panting, close, pressed up against Bellamy with one leg thrown over his thigh, grinding against him. 

She gasped, and looked up at him, only to find the gleam of his eyes in the dark, watching her, not moving. He wasn’t even touching her. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. Not knowing what else to say. What else to do. “Sorry.” She rolled away from him, turning to face the wall, to hide from him. It was just an unconscious response, she told herself. Perfectly natural.

“Clarke…” he said, his voice husky.

“No,” she said, too embarrassed. “I don’t…I can’t…I just…”

Bellamy sighed. “It’s okay, Clarke. Just go to sleep.”

Clarke stared at the wall in the dark, listening to him next to her, awake.


	13. Separated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy puts himself in peril in order to keep Clarke safe. So Clarke does what she has to in order to keep him safe. Whatever she has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note ratings change 
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> About prompts i dont know if you've seen the saint but there'san scene when the saint falls in a frozen river and the girl who is a scientist doctor help him making them naked to warm up and recover body temperature.
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> Hi Rosy! I have a prompt for your fanfiction. An awkward/unexpected situation that forces Bellamy and Clarke to stay separated by few centimetres.
> 
> I am not a doctor. This is not medically accurate. I googled, and read some and then decided a disclaimer at the beginning would do. I've got narrative intentions, I'm not letting medical accuracy get in my way, no sir. Close enough.

They were separated from from the rest of the group and running.

“Is that gun shots?” Clarke asked over her shoulder as she dove through the woods.

“Yes,” Bellamy grit out. “Stop, dammit. They’re going to herd us over the cliff. Stop.” 

Clarke stopped, panting to catch her breath. “Why are the grounders using guns?”

“Since they don’t follow the commander anymore, they don’t follow her rules. And to fight the sky people they use sky people weapons.”

“There’s too many of them, Bellamy, and they’re between us and the rover. What about the others? Did they get away?”

“Yeah, the grounders came after us. They others will head to the nearest way station. They are defensible. We probably led the grounders away from them and gave them the chance to get away.”

“Well, good, but how are we going to get away?”

“Get up in the tree, Clarke. Hide. I’m going to lead them away.”

“What? No!” she hissed. “I’m coming with you.”

“There’s no time to debate. I can hear them coming. I know what I’m doing. Get up there.”

She wanted to argue. Her heart beat so fast she thought it would give her away. But she swallowed her words and scrambled up into the dense foliage of the tree. Bellamy reached up and handed her his pack. “You hold onto this. There won’t be room for it where I’m going.”

Clarke’s head was screaming.

“Trust me, Clarke.”

She wanted to kiss him but all she did was take his hand and squeeze it for the briefest moment, unable to get any words out. Words like “be safe,” “don’t go,” “I love you.”

“When you hear them follow me, get down, head over the ridge. You know the signs to look for. There’s a bunker. I’ll meet you there.”

She did nothing but nod. Her throat tight.

“I’ll be fine Clarke.” He held her hand for one more moment and then ran off into the trees. 

She listened to him as he got farther away. She listened to the grounders as they got closer. It was all she could do. Listen. As she froze, silent, hiding, in the branches, lost in the shadows, being kept safe. When she heard the gunshot far to the north, she bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood, then listened as the sounds from the grounders stopped getting nearer, and started receding into the distance.

Finally the woods were silent and the birds began singing again. She climbed down the tree and hauled her pack and his over the ridge to find the shelter signs their people had left. The bunker she located was barely that. More a root cellar that was half collapsed, but it was hidden, and it was safe from pursuit and she waited for him there. Waited, too long. She didn’t notice she was crying until a tear fell on her hand where it was clutching her knees to her chest. Clarke angrily wiped the tears off of her face. “He’s coming,” she told herself. “He’ll be here.” When she started trembling, she told herself it was the dampness of the underground bunker, not her nerves. “He’ll be fine,” she told herself. 

And when the door to the bunker squeaked open, she jumped up, nearly hitting her head on the low ceiling. She didn’t even concern herself with the possibility that it wasn’t Bellamy coming through that door. It had to be Bellamy, it had to be.

And when she saw the hulking form she crashed into him, throwing her arms around his neck, holding him to her and breathing him in. He held onto her, then, tucking his cold nose into her neck and it took longer than it should have for her to realize he was wet, and cold, and shivering.

She pulled back and looked at him in the dimness. “What? You’re soaked. Bellamy, what happened?”

He shook his head in answer before he could speak. “I hid b-behind a waterfall.”

“No,” she said, as if that would help. He laughed. She smacked his chest. “Take off those wet clothes, you need to change into dry clothes. It’s fall and the temperature drops when the sun goes down and it is chilly in here. I should build a fire.”

“Don’t be silly, we’ll smoke ourselves out in here. I’ll be f-fine.”

“Then let’s camp outside and build a fire, we need more heat.”

“No, the grounders are still hunting us and I don’t want them coming back. Just let me change.”

Clarke turned his back while he changed. “Why in the world were you hiding behind a waterfall?”

“It was,” he started, “it was the best place to lead them off your trail. We f-found it when we were hunting once. There’s only room for one p-person, but it’s hidden and there’s no other cover. They kept going, thinking we were heading down that game trail, doing something sensible like heading b-back home.”

Clarke didn’t wait anymore to see if he was dressed. She turned back around as he pulled his t shirt over his head, just in time to see his skin, gleaming and pale in the dim light from her travel lantern. She went up to him, putting a hand to his face, feeling how cold and clammy he was. “Dammit, Bellamy. How long were you in that waterfall? Your core temperature is too low.”

“Too long, I’m g-g-g-guessing?” He shook his head at his stutter. “Fuck, Clarke, it’s so cold,” he breathed.

Clarke tried to pretend that she wasn’t worried. She unrolled her bedroll and grabbed his, too, laying them together and opening it up for him. “Too late for dry clothes, Bell. Get in. We have to get you warm.”

“D-don’t tell me what to do,” he said, but climbed without any more complaint. She bundled the blankets up around him. He was shivering. “W-where’s Argos?” he asked, looking around.

Clarke’s heart jumped. He was disoriented. A sign of hypothermia. “He’s back at camp, Bellamy. He’s fine. Staying with Octavia. Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah. I’m sh-shaking.”

“That’s good, Bellamy. It will help.”

“I miss you. Where are you? I’m so tired. I want you.”

“I’m right here, Bellamy.” She knelt at his side, feeling his low, too low temperature. She dug in her pack for a knit hat and pulled it over his head, pulled the blankets back and started undoing his pants

Bellamy batted at her. “Stop,” he said. 

“Nope, we’re going to warm you up, okay? Skin to skin.”

“You’re w-worried about me. Come lie d-down with me. I miss you.”

“Yes,” she said. “I always worry about you. I’m going to lie down with you to get you warm. Body heat, remember, Bellamy?” 

“I’m tired, C-c-cl-clarke. I’m t-t-tired. I wanna sleep.”

Clarke pulled her shirt off, and stripped her pants off. The air was chill. She didn’t care. She wrestled his shirt up off over his head. He let her move his arms around like a doll, his teeth chattering.

“C-c-cold.”

“Let me take care of you, Bellamy,” she whispered, too scared to care about anything else.

He nodded his head, barely. She took off her bra, And pulled the blankets over them, wrapping them around their bodies as tightly as possible, not a millimeter between them, pressing her chest up against his too cool chest. His skin cold against hers. He was never cold. He was always a heat engine, keeping her warm in the coldest night, and now here he was, cold and pale and confused in her arms. 

“I got you, Bellamy, okay?” She wrapped her arms around him as tight as she could. She pressed her nose into the skin under jaw. Felt his heart beat, strong, but his skin still so cold. She pulled him in to her, her hands running up and down his back. “Please be okay, Bellamy, I need you. I can’t do without you.”

“Oh my g-god are you made of lava? You’re c-crying and it’s like fire.”

She leaned back and looked at him, pulling the blankets around to make sure no cool air got to him. She put her hands to his neck ran them up to his face. “It’s you, Bell. You’re too cold. I’m trying to warm you up.” 

“I don’t want you to cry, C-clarke.”

“And I don’t want you to die!”

He shook his head in the dark bunker. She felt his cool hands running up her sides, sliding up her back. “I’m not,” he breathed. “I’m not dying. I’m j-just cold, okay?”

“No, you have hypothermia. Can you keep holding onto me?”

He laughed shakily. “Always.”

“Good, stay with me,” She talked to him then, she wasn’t sure what about. Argos. The bridge construction. The ending of Pride and Prejudice that she’d just finished. The pumpkin crop that was huge. They had more pumpkins than they knew what to do with and had turned them into anything. Muffins, stew, a new batch of pumpkin ale. It took a while for Clarke to realize he’d stopped shivering in her arms.

She gasped. “Oh! Oh no. No no no. That’s the next phase of hypothermia. God no. Bellamy are you with me?”

He chuckled. “I’m here, Clarke. I just got distracted.”

“It’s the confusion. Please Bellamy, please. You have to warm up.”

“No, I’m not confused. It’s you. You feel so good. So warm. You make me feel good. I love having you in my arms like this.”

He wrapped his big hand around the nape of her neck, burrowing his nose into the hair behind her ear. His breath was hot on her skin.

She brought her hand around from where it was wrapped around his back, trying to warm him, and ran it up his chest, his neck, his jaw. He pulled back and looked at her. His eyes so dark and shadowed in the dim light. She pressed her hand to his forehead.

“Your temperature is up,” she whispered, and the relief that poured through her was a physical thing. She closed her eyes and breathed out. He would be okay, and the joy rolled through her. She still had him.

“I told you I didn’t have hypothermia.”

She looked at him, at the lovely curve of his stupid smile. “You did, Bellamy.You had the early stages of hypothermia.”

He nodded. “You caught it in time, Clarke,” he said and his voice was so low, it set a trembling in her belly. “I’m still cold, though.” 

Clarke pulled him in to her, realizing that she was already almost as close as she could get, her legs wrapped around his, every part of her pressed up against every part of him. Every part of him pressing up against her, urgently. Growing harder.

She licked her lips and watched him following the movement of her tongue.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” he said. “Just ignore it,” but he didn’t look sorry, and he pulled her closer, his fingers digging into the muscles of her back and sending a jolt of electricity through her.

“What if I don’t want to ignore it?” she breathed into his ear.

She felt his breathing speed up and his hands ghosted up her sides, just grazing the sides of her breasts. A shiver went through her whole body and she couldn’t help but rub herself against his erection. 

“Tell me no, Clarke. If you don’t want this, tell me.”

Clarke said nothing. She wanted this. She wanted his hands. And his mouth. Him. She wanted him. She tangled her fingers in his hair. She pressed her lips to his forehead. Warm again. She smiled. She pressed her lips high on his cheekbone. Her thumb caressing his jaw. His eyes closed. So she pressed her lips, gently to the soft skin of his eyelids. One, then the other.

She pulled back to look at him and he opened his eyes, staring into hers. They were dark and liquid, full of desire and questions. She still didn’t speak. She wouldn’t risk saying the wrong thing. Instead, she pressed her lips to his.

When he didn’t respond, she stopped, suddenly worried. Pulled back, but he clutched at her shoulders, not letting her go. “Yes?” he asked.

Clarke nodded. And then he was kissing her. His lips cool at first but opening under hers, finally, and his tongue, hot and wet, caressed hers. She moaned, and suddenly he had flipped her and was on top of her, pressing into her right where she wanted him, and she clutched his strong shoulders, his hand cupping her breast and she could not wait any more.

“Please, Bell,” she panted into his mouth, “Please.” 

“Yes, Clarke,” he said, and his hands were everywhere. There was nothing separating them, just skin, just heat, just desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, lol.  
> Does this count as "the kiss?"


	14. Steps of the Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Harvest Festival, and Clarke, who has been avoiding Bellamy since their night in the bunker, has to come face to face with it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgivenessishardforus  
> So I was talking with @the100thbellarker today and she suggested something about Memori constantly teasing Bellarke and making fun of their under-the-surface feelings for each other and being general pains in the asses (and I love the idea a lot)
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> Could you include a dance scene in Got you?

It was the Harvest Moon.

The grounders always celebrated the Harvest Moon. Come to think of it, the grounders had a tendency to celebrate everything, as far as Clarke could see. 

“You’re damn right we do,” Emori said, sitting with all the other women of the same age in the steam cabin they’d built according to grounder directions. “It’s a miracle any of us are alive at all, and we celebrate being alive as much as we can.”

“We celebrate, too,” Clarke defended the sky people, looking around at her girls, trying to get support. Octavia rolled her eyes and shrugged. She’d never left her quarters on The Ark, before landing on the ground. The rest of the sky girls smiled and drank their harvest cider. It was cool and sweet and tingly on the tongue, which made it the best thing ever, in this hot and steamy room.

“You celebrate by making speeches and telling histories,” Emori continued rolling her eyes, “We celebrate by drinking and dancing and making love,” she looked over at the other grounder girl who had recently joined them under protection of the Arkadian territory. “Right, Niylah?’

Niylah startled and looked away from Octavia. She cleared her throat. “Right. That’s how you celebrate life, by enjoying it.” 

Emori grinned evilly at Niylah, “and there’s nothing more enjoyable than orgasms,” 

“Uhm…” Niylah stuttered, a flush creeping down her neck to her chest.

But Emori turned to Clarke instead. “Right, Clarke?”

Clarke took a sip of her cider. A big one. She refused to blush. Emori was relentless if she thought she had something on you. Better to show no weakness.

“Well, yes. I guess. Although there are other things, too, sweet cider, hot steam, music, the starry night sky, good food…”

Harper laughed. “All those things can be enjoyed naked, you know, Clarke. I mean, we’ve got a couple of them right here!” She waved her cider around to gesture at the small cabin full of naked girls. “All you need is to add in some lips and fingers and sexual organs!” She laughed again and her cider sloshed onto the hot rocks in the center of the cabin, sending up another puff of sweet smelling steam. Clarke saw Niylah cast another glance at Octavia before the steam covered her. But Octavia was looking at Clarke with a glare. 

“Cut the crap, Clarke,” Octavia said, even if she couldn’t see her. Her voice was sharp through the steam. “Are you going to be celebrating with my brother?”

Clarke was glad that the steam had gotten so thick because she was not sure if she could have hidden her emotions from them. She felt them all. Desire. Love. Fear. Horror. Embarrassment. Dread. 

“It’s just us girls, Clarke,” Emori said. “You can tell us.”

“Clarke and Bellamy aren’t ‘like that,’” Raven spoke up from where she sat next to Clarke. Clarke was not sure if she should feel thankful for Raven’s defense, or worried. “They don’t do ‘that’ because they are just…what is it you and Bellamy are to each other again, Clarke? Because none of us can figure it out. Partners, friends, roommates, sweethearts, soul mates? Come on, it’s safe with us. You know we’ll support you whatever it is. If you don’t want that with him, it’s okay.”

“Because if you don’t want him like that, Clarke,” Harper said, her words slurring just a bit. “Half the camp is willing to step up and celebrate with him. I mean, not me, I’m taken, but I won’t lie and say I don’t sometimes imagine… I mean, I’ve heard the stories, from more than one satisfied girl. I hear he really knows what he’s doing and you can tell just by looking that he’s huge—“

“That’s my brother, Harper,” Octavia snapped, “You’re cut off.” 

The women all started laughing, and comparing notes about various lovers and Clarke grabbed her towel, wrapped it around herself and ducked out of the steam cabin.

***  
Clarke managed to hide herself away after that. For a week she’d been busying herself with the med center and with various other duties around the camp, spending a lot of quality time with her mother. She was busy, very busy and had managed to stay that way ever since the night she and Bellamy had spent the night in the bunker. They still lived together, still slept in the same bed, but Clarke managed to come in so exhausted every night that all she could do was fall asleep with her back turned to him.

But now all non essential duties were suspended and her damn meddling mother and Kane had made sure that she was free from anything that would keep her from celebrating the Harvest. She hid out with a group of delinquents, sitting between Raven on one side and Monty on the other, even though she’d squeezed herself between them when there was barely enough room for just the two of them on their bench. Even though there was an empty bench on the other side, just waiting for her, for Bellamy.

She caught his eye as he came into the fire light with Murphy and Emori. She knew her panic showed in her eyes, because she could see the hurt on his face, the sadness, and how he covered it up with a tight smile and a dumb joke. She ducked her head and tried to pretend everything was normal, that nothing had happened, that she wasn’t terrified to get near him. But if things were normal, she wouldn’t be watching him from across the bonfire, she would be leaning her head on his shoulder, sitting next to him, laughing with her friends, with him.

Instead, she hid her face behind Monty, and listened to him talk with Bryan about the new varieties of root vegetables they’d found that grew well. Root vegetables. She should be interested in tubers. Tubers could very well feed their people through the winter. They stored well and were filling and very versatile. She tried to make herself be interested, and not keep peeking over Bryan’s shoulder at Bellamy and Murphy on the next bench. Emori was laughing brightly at something that a smirking Murphy had said, while Bellamy glowered at him. Clarke wished she could hear what they were talking about. 

But before she could build up her curiosity, music wafted over the bonfire. Clarke recognized the song, but the rest of the delinquents started hooting and hollering and jumped up from the benches. Monty came over and held a hand out to Raven and hauled her up off the seat and Harper came around her other side, the three of them headed off to the clearing on the other side. Clarke turned to Bryan, but he was already sauntering off with Miller, and Clarke was left alone.

Until Emori stepped up. She grabbed Clarke’s hand and drew her up. 

“Time to dance, Clarke,” Emori said, that devilish look back on her face. “There is no sitting out of Harvest Festival dances unless you want the harvest to fail.”

“That’s ridiculous, dancing has nothing to do with whether we have a good harvest, it’s weather and water and soil and the health of the crops,” Clarke grumbled. 

Emori laughed. She had a good laugh, a free laugh that had always known the freedom of the sky and the earth. “You say that until the crops fail and all your people are starving in the dark of winter and you realize it was because you refused to dance at the Harvest festival.”

Clarke looked over at everyone in the clearing. They were stepping and twining around each other, joining in combinations and separating. “I can’t. I don’t know the steps of the dance.”

Murphy stepped up and pulled Emori into his side. “You didn’t think you were going to get my partner, did you princess?” Clarke glared at him. He was the only one who still called her princess. He never let her forget how she had lived at the top of the tower, like Rapunzel. But she also remembered how she had left him there to be taken by Ontari, so she let him call her whatever he wanted. He kissed Emori, and watching her melt into him made Clarke’s heart hurt. They made each other happy. And she was glad to see it, and terrified. 

Murphy pulled away from Emori. “Get Bellamy to teach you,” he said finally. “Everyone says he’s a great teacher.”

Clarke spun around, suddenly realizing that Bellamy was standing there behind her, his face vulnerable, looking at her like she would push him away. Before she realized what her body was doing she had wrapped her arms around his waist to hug him, because she hated that look on his face, and in the next instant, she pulled back.

“Sorry,” she choked out.

“You have to dance, Clarke!” Emori called back over her shoulder as she and Murphy slid into the collection of people doing the complicated steps that she couldn’t follow. “It’s for the good of your people!” Emori and Murphy laughed and then entered the dance. 

Bellamy swallowed. “I can—will you let me show you the steps?” His voice was quiet and restrained and he sounded so broken. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

She really couldn’t speak in response, her throat had closed up with this emotion that she couldn’t identify. Didn’t want to. She nodded, blinking up at him.

He held his hand out to her, raising his eyebrows to see if it was okay. She put her hand in his. It was warm and dry and rough and strong. She held on tighter. His hand in hers anchored her, reminded her. This was Bellamy Blake and he was there.

And then he was leading her to the edge of the clearing. She eyed the dancers suspiciously. “Where did they learn this dance? This is not an Ark dance.”

He looked off at the dancers too, his body next hers, something she was very conscious of. “Nyko used to come by with some of the healers and apprentices, with herbs to trade for medical knowledge. When they were done with Abby, they’d come out here and teach us grounder dances.”

“And you…”Clarke blinked at him, “learned grounder dances?”

He made a sour look and scoffed. “I like Nyko.”

Clarke shook her head in amazement, still holding his hand, because she wasn’t going to let go.

Bellamy pulled on her hand again. “Come on Clarke, you have to dance for your people.”

Clarke gasped. “You’re not buying that superstition, are you?”

“It’s called tradition. I’m not letting you off the hook.”

“I”m going knock into people and mess up their dance.”

“Well stay on the outside of the circle, okay? Just follow my instructions. I’ll hold your hands and direct you.”

She stared at him in the flickering shadows and fire light as he told her which way to step, his warm hands leading her out and in and around. Again and again. She realized the pattern pretty quickly once she was in it, and doing the steps, but she held onto him just to keep the excuse of holding him. She watched as the firelight carved angles on his face, making him beautiful in a million different ways. Her feet began to repeat the steps of the dance automatically so she could just watch him.

She had missed him. It had been a week of avoiding him and she wanted him back. She wanted him more than anything.

The music changed, soft now, slow. Clarke stumbled over her feet and her thoughts. Bellamy stepped in towards her and brought her up against his chest.

“What?” her heart sped up.

“It’s another dance. Simpler than the other one,” Bellamy said. He placed one of her arms on his shoulders, and held the other in front of them, clasped in his. He dropped his arm to her waist and curled around it. “Just follow me, and I’ll show you.”

He must have sensed her hesitation. His eyebrows drew together infinitesimally. “You trust me don’t you?” He asked.

“Of course,” she said, and her voice was huskier than she liked it to be. She didn’t like that he would think she didn’t trust him.

“Then trust me. I got you. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Clarke could only stare at him. She licked her lips and then swallowed. “Okay,” she whispered, and then he was stepping and turning and whirling her into the crowd. And the were all spinning and she threw her head back and laughed with the exhilaration of it and all of the dancers were twirling about together and she was dizzy and joyous.

The song ended and Bellamy spun her to a stop. She tilted her head back, feeling her neck exposed to him. His liquid eyes captured hers and he brushed his fingers through the tangled curls of her hair. He smiled. “Having fun?”

The song gentled to something slow and melodic and her heart felt too big for her chest to contain. Clarke nodded. Bellamy started swaying with his arms still around her.

“Is this another dance?”

“No steps to learn this time,” he said, “just this, okay?”

Her breath caught as he drew her in closer to him. “I know this one,” she said as she rested her still dizzy head on his shoulder, and they just moved together. 

She loved the feel of his shoulders under her fingers. She found herself caressing his muscles as she held on. She nudged the curls behind his ear with her nose. She loved his scent. Musky and piney, and just him. She loved being in his arms and hooked her elbow around his neck so she could get closer to him. She loved his heart beat and the breath in his lungs. She loved his freckles and his scars. She loved his attitude and his sharp words and his intuitive intelligence. She loved that she could always depend on him, that he would do anything for their people, that he would always be there for her. She loved him. She loved Bellamy Blake. She loved him beyond reason and with every molecule of her being. She loved him.

The gentle music sped up again, back to something peppy. Bellamy pulled back, his breath shallow and his eyes dark. “Clarke, I—” he started, and Clarke stopped him. She put one hand to his chest and held him off. 

“Bellamy—“ She didn’t remember what she was going to say, instead she saw, underneath her hand, the blood welling. From Bellamy’s strong, good heart, the blood poured. Sometimes it was bright and red, shockingly so, but sometimes it was black and dark and awful. But it was her hand, both times, covered in blood from the dearest heart. 

“Clarke?” he said, concerned. “Are you okay?”

She felt him leading her off to the side of the festival but couldn’t really see. No, she could see. But the blood spilling out of him took all her thought. She pressed her hands to him trying to stanch it. 

“You—“ she started, panicked. And then it wasn’t there. She pressed against his shirt looking for blood, but there was none. She lifted his shirt running her hand over his flawless skin. There was no wound. No blood. He was strong and healthy and living. “But—“ she said.

“Come on,” Bellamy said, his voice so soft it was like being wrapped up in a blanket. “Let’s go home. I think you’ve had too much Harvest festival.”

Clarke’s hand still pressed against his warm, perfect, beloved skin. “No,” she said.

“What? You want to stay here? Are you sure? You look like you could use a break, maybe some sleep. Maybe just to be held?” He asked, his head tilt looking hopeful and wonderful and she wanted him always.

“No.” The word broke out of her like a sob. “I can’t. I can’t stay with you. I can’t. I need to leave.”

She watched the blood drain out of his face, leaving his freckles dark against pale skin. “No, Clarke,” he said numbly. “I won’t let you leave again.”

She laughed but it might have been a sob she really couldn’t have said the difference at this point. “No,” she said, her heart cracking, shattering, turning to dust inside of her, bloodless and unloving. “I mean I’m going back to my mother’s. I can’t do this Bellamy.” Empty and cold. Defended against pain and all that good strong blood. No.

Bellamy was silent. She could hear the festival still going on. But Bellamy had turned to stone.

She forced herself to look through the buzzing in her head, the fear, to see him, to focus on him. He was staring at her. She knew that face. She’d left that face at the gates of Camp Jaha, but this was so much worse. Because she knew what she was giving up. She knew what it felt like to sleep in his arms. To taste his skin. To want him, god, want him so much. 

He knew too. She could tell. But she was still afraid to look down from his anguished eyes to look at his chest and possibly see him dying in her arms. She couldn’t. 

She thought he would argue. 

But he didn’t.

He shuttered the warmth in his eyes and that was almost the worst thing of all. He swallowed heavily. “Okay,” he said. “You can come pick up your stuff tomorrow. I’ll make sure to be out of your way.”

A pained breath ripped its way out of her. It was her plan, but it hurt so to hear him say it.

“Do you need me to walk you back to your mother’s quarters?” His voice was gentle and kind and like the voice she’d heard him use on any number of sad small things and she wanted to hit him or hug him or run away, she wasn’t sure. 

“No,” she said, surprised by how steady she was. But then, the world had shrunk down to a pinpoint size that only allowed his stone face looking back at her. “I’ll be okay. I’ll just crash on my old bed.” Her words were so calm. 

“Okay,” he said and stood there. Looking at her. Unmoving. She had the impression that his arms were crossed over his chest but she couldn’t really focus on anything below his neck. She knew that stubborn face though. The one where he was challenging her to make the first step.

He wouldn’t walk away first. That was going to be all her. The breath she drew in was broken and she saw him shake his head like he wanted to protest, but he didn’t say anything so she turned on her heel, staring very carefully at the ground where she would place each foot, one by one, as she walked slowly and relentlessly away from Bellamy Blake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry dudes. I did try to warn you that I was one of the characters-must-suffer kind of authors. My fluff must have its angst.   
> Don't hate me.


	15. Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that she's moved into Abby's again, Clarke's nightmares are back. Bellamy's insomnia, too. 
> 
> A midnight walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> "Now imagine those protective, gentle and teasing urges towards a love-shy Clarke" Stop trying to kill me! Now I can totally see this happening in s4! and Clarke being increasingly weak, finding excuses to touch him, more and more in his space....
> 
> Oh I don’t think this is going to be what you meant. Take the whole fic as this prompt, because it really was the prompt that helped me figure out how to organize the whole collection. But I had it in my notes as “Pride and Prejudice,” as part of my concept of how to handle the romance. I don’t know. This is a very slanted prompt, but I needed this scene. 
> 
> More angst ahead folks. But I promise soon...

She was running through the halls of Mount Weather. Electric lights and stone walls. The harvest room with the drains in the floor and the stacks of cages. The electric light flickered and she knew what she would find.

She wasn’t shocked when she came upon the man hanging upside down with tubes draining his blood, to find that it was Bellamy.

“No,” Clarke whimpered, trying to lift him up, to hold his head. He was too heavy and she was weak and powerless. She put her fingers to his pulse and it was flat. His eyes staring, open, dull. Dead.

Clarke sat up in bed gasping. Her mother was sleeping next to her, one hand limply resting on Clarke’s. She tried to calm her breathing, to release the panic that felt like a supernova inside of her head, spreading out to fill her whole body with fear.

Clarke pulled her hand out from her mother’s. At least she hadn’t woken Abby this time. At least this nightmare had been a silent one. She’d already woken once tonight with a scream ringing in her ears, her throat raw, and a vision in her head that wouldn’t fade, of Bellamy being shot by Titus, his fingers clutching at his stomach as his thick black blood poured out. 

Clarke climbed out of bed. She wanted Abby to get some sleep. She knew more dreams would be coming. They came fast and thick after she’d left Bellamy’s quarters to return to her mother’s. She let out a shaky breath as she tried to remember she was here, in her old room. She had a vase of autumn flowers on her table that smelled spicy. The wool sweater draped on the back of the chair was soft and nubby under her fingers. 

She glanced back at her mother’s sleeping form. She must be exhausted. Clarke knew Abby hadn’t gotten much sleep since she’d come back. A week into her return, Abby had come to her, reluctant to bring it up, but determined. “Are you afraid of Bellamy?” Abby asked while Clarke gaped at her. “Is that why you moved back in with me?”

Clarke just blinked. “What?”

“You say his name a lot in your sleep and it always sounds so terrified. It’s okay if you are afraid, sweetheart. We’ll protect you. But we need to know, did he hurt you? ”

Clarke started laughing, while her mother watched her. “Mom, I’m not afraid of Bellamy. I’m afraid for him. I don’t dream of dad dying anymore, it’s Bellamy being sucked out of the airlock. I don’t dream of finding Wells’ body with his throat cut, it’s Bellamy. It’s Bellamy tied up to the stake and Bellamy I stab with my own hands. It’s Bellamy who is buried under the rubble of TonDC and Bellamy lying in the field of dead warriors. Every death in my dreams is Bellamy.”

Abby’s face fell. “Oh Clarke,” she said, her voice dismayed. “You’re in love with him. Why did you move out?”

“No!” Clarke yelled to her mother’s shock. “I can’t! Everyone I love dies!” Clarke blinked and listened to the words echo in the room, echo in her head. 

“It’s not true, Clarke. It’s not because you love them.”

And then Clarke collapsed into tears, her mother pulling her into her lap as she pet her hair and Clarke just clung to her like a child.

“It’s okay,” Abby whispered, “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

But now the winter winds were whistling down the valley, and Clarke was no closer to ending her nightmares or the terror she felt at losing Bellamy, the fear whenever she got close. Her throat felt thick and her head buzzed with anxiety. She just wanted to get out. She pulled on the thick sweater with it’s high neck and deep pockets and stuffed her feet into her boots. She needed to walk.

So walk is what she did. 

Arkadia was quiet. So quiet. The electric lights were mostly off and the stars, where she had come from, twinkled up there in the sky with a beauty that far surpassed the coldness of space. It was seeing them pressed up against the trees, she knew. With the purple clouds skating across them, hiding them. With the atmosphere dulling them. It was only when the stars interacted with the earth that their beauty made her soul sing.

Her feet crunched on the cold ground. There was a slight frost covering the hard soil. But Clarke kept her eyes turned to the stars, looking for answers, remembering wishes.

“Clarke,” he said. Bellamy’s voice made her freeze in her steps and gasp. She heard him come up behind her. She closed her eyes and swallowed, bracing herself for an onslaught of feeling as she turned around and faced him.

“Bellamy,” she said, still trying to avoid looking at his chest, afraid of seeing his heart pierced and bleeding. She smiled but she could feel how tight that smile was.

He sighed. “Your nightmares are getting worse.”

“What?” she said, feeling exposed. She didn’t want him to know.

“I hear you, Clarke. Screaming in the night. All night. Every night.”

Clarke pressed her lips between her teeth. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know. She especially hadn’t wanted him to know. Too late.

“So that means you’re taking watches all night, again, every night? Your insomnia?”

He nodded. “Worse.” 

She chanced a look at his face. His eyes dark, his jaw tense, like he was holding himself back from saying something. Of course he was. She was too. She was depending on him not to push it because she didn’t know how much pushing she could withstand before she collapsed into him and refused to ever let him go again. She couldn’t do that. She knew it. She couldn’t keep him safe. She couldn’t protect him from The Earth. 

She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her sweater. It was thick and warm but much too big, her mother’s first attempt at knitting an actual item of clothing. Her knuckles brushed against the edge of something.

“Oh,” she said, relieved to have something to talk to him about that wasn’t about nightmares or them. 

She pulled it out and reached out to him with the book in her hand.

“I wanted to return this.”

Bellamy didn’t step closer. He looked at her face and let his eyes drop to the book. He swallowed. “Pride and Prejudice.”

She nodded. Held it up higher. “So someone else can read it.” 

He stopped looking at the book. His eyes trapped hers and he took three rapid steps and wrapped his hand around hers, over the paper back. 

Clarke closed her eyes. Her breath sped up through her parted lips. The warmth of his hand around her fingers filled her with joy, bubbling up from his touch and until the light inside of her was warm and bright. She knew she should break contact and walk away, but all she wanted to do was feel his fingers, his presence. Him.

“Why are you doing this, Clarke?” he said. His voice was low, and hurt. "You know I've got you, right? I will help you through whatever it is." He’d stepped closer to her until he was only inches from touching her. She opened her eyes and saw him there, his familiar lips and scar, those eyes so full of love she wanted to give everything to him. She wanted his strength up against her, but not if it meant she would wound him, hurt him, kill him. 

“Come home, Clarke. Please.”

She broke. Tears rolling down her face as she let go of the book and pressed up against Bellamy’s chest, holding his face between her hands as she kissed him. His lips moved desperately against hers but he didn't put his hands on her, and when she pulled away he just stood there, the book hanging limply at his side.

“I can’t,” she said and she ran back to her room, knowing that he was watching her with every agonized step she took.


	16. Not An Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension between Bellamy and Clarke comes to a head, and can't be ignored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame them with their angsty, imprisoning prompts so I had to wrangle all the fluff into something deliciously painful. Anyway. Thanks, you guys.
> 
> brittybearblake said:  
> BELLARKE FIC PROMPT! Canonverse, post-finale, existential crises, angst, realizations of feelings, just generally lots of Bellarke feels in the face of impending doom. Please and thank you! (Hope this is enough to go off of... not sure how these things work) And congrats on 1200 :D
> 
> blyedeeks said: let me think about crazy prompts…. Kane and Abby arrest Bellarke (yes post s3 which is why is crazy, you figure out why if it inspires you, these kids are crazy) ;hummm and that’s all I’ve got for now DARN (sorry i should be focusing on my college but here i am LOL)
> 
> ps. Really, Camila? you asked me to have Kabby ARREST Bellarke? you just about killed me, but we pulled it out.

“No.” Clarke said, her voice cold and loud in the council room. They all turned to look at her.

“Excuse me?” Bellamy glared.

“I said, no. You are not going to risk your life to stop yet another apocalypse.”

“Clarke it’s not an apocalypse,” Kane said, his hand raised, his voice calm. “It’s a small reactor. We're really not in imminent danger, but the levels are starting to get unstable so we need someone to go and shut it down.”

“No,” Clarke stood, practically vibrating with fury. Anger. Fear. What it was she didn’t know but she knew she was about to explode and take the whole world with her. “Not Bellamy.”

“Excuse me, Clarke,” Bellamy said, his voice just as icy as hers, “Last time I checked, you didn’t get a say in what I do with my life.”

His eyes met hers and they were practically black with rage. The muscle in his jaw jumped and she wanted to grab him and shake him. He clenched his own fists at his sides and glared down at her. When had she pushed away from her chair to stand so close to him? When had he come to loom over her?

She raised her hands and fisted them in his shirt, pulling him closer. It made no sense. “You will not be going on that mission to stop that reactor.”

“I don’t answer to you.” His voice was so low it was nearly inaudible. She had never seen Bellamy so angry, but she didn’t care. She was angry, too. She wouldn’t allow it. He would not risk his life again.

“All right,” Abby said, putting her hands down on the table and standing up. “That’s enough, you two. I’ve reached the end of my patience. We need the both of you, and right now, neither of you are functioning at all.”

Clarke blinked and tore her glare away from Bellamy’s furious snapping eyes.

“What?” she said. 

“That’s right. The two of you need to stop pretending that nothing is going on between you. It’s interfering with the whole camp.”

“We can handle ourselves,” Bellamy growled, and shifted infinitesimally to stand next to Clarke instead of opposed to her. She still held onto him, but it seemed less in anger and more in unity.

“You CAN handle yourselves,” Abby continued, raising a cool eyebrow at them, refusing to back down. “But you aren’t. So I’m telling you now, the council has decided that both of you are removed from duty until you get whatever you’re dealing with between yourselves straightened out.”

“You can’t do that,” Clarke said

Abby folded her arms over her chest and tilted her head. “Oh, we can.”

We, she said. She meant the whole council. The whole council besides Bellamy and Clarke. She looked at Bellamy and saw the same astonishment on his face that she felt. 

“Both of you are on temporary suspension of all duties until you can work together again.” Clarke and Bellamy swiveled to glare at Kane as he spoke from the other side of the table.

“Raven?” Clarke said to her friend where she was reclining in her council chair, her bad leg propped up on the table to ease it. “Did you agree to this?”

Raven snorted. “Don’t look at me, I told them you needed to bang.”

“Raven,” Abby scolded.

“Oh, come on, Abby. You know the only reason I’m on the council is because you need my tech brain. I am not here for my diplomacy.”

“Clearly,” Clarke said, her eyebrows half way up her forehead. Her mother, Kane, her best friend and the rest of the council had conspired against them. She couldn’t believe it. And by the furious look Bellamy shot her, (not directed at her this time, her heart swelled stupidly,) neither could he.

Bellamy took another tiny step, almost as if he was trying to get in front of her, to protect her from the council. Her hand relaxed on his shirt, rested against his chest. “Whatever you’re thinking,” Bellamy said, “Isn’t going to work. What is going on between us is private.”

Raven slapped her palm on the council table. “Holy crap, he actually admitted there’s something going on between them.”

Clarke and Bellamy both shot her their worst dirty looks. Raven laughed. 

“You’re a terrible council member,” Bellamy said.

“I know!” Raven crowed, enjoying herself far too much, and brought her good leg up to join her bad one on the council table. She put both hands behind her head and grinned.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy. I’m sorry Clarke,” Marcus continued, “But you’re wrong. What’s going on between the two of you, whatever it is, is not private. It is affecting the camp, it is affecting your leadership, and most of all, it is affecting the both of you. And whether you think that is important or not, we need you. Both of you. The suspension stands.”

Clarke laughed. She crossed both arms over her chest and Bellamy mirrored her, standing next to her, a united force. “Whatever you’re thinking, it won’t work. I don’t care what the council decrees,” Clarke sent an extra special glare aimed at Raven. Raven threw her head back and laughed breathlessly. “We’re not just going to willingly comply to this nonsense.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Clarke,” Abby sighed. “Marcus?”

Kane nodded and then brought his walkie up to his mouth. “Miller,” he said, simply.

The council room door opened and Miller entered, along with Harper. Their shock lashes were out. 

Bellamy grimaced and turned to Miller. “Really?”

“Yup.” 

“Harper!” Clarke added, hurt. 

She shook her head and shrugged unapologetically. “It’s gotta be done."

“So what,” Bellamy said. “The only ones who aren’t conspiring against us are Jasper and Monty?”

Raven laughed. “It was Monty’s idea. And Jasper is the one who brought it to the council.”

“I hate you all,” Bellamy growled.

“You’re terrible people.” Clarke agreed with him. 

“Enough, Clarke,” Abby said. “Both of you have to face this, and figure it out.”

“Take them to their quarters,” Kane said. “We’ll handle the reactor problem.”

Clarke and Bellamy shared a look of complete and utter disgust, agreeing silently to not cooperate with whatever goal they thought they were trying to accomplish. They couldn’t be worked this way. 

Neither Clarke nor Bellamy spoke as they were marched, furious, through Arkadia. When they got to the door of Bellamy’s rooms and gestured them both inside, Clarke broke her silence. “We don’t share quarters.”

Miller pursed his lips.”Today you do.” And nodded them inside.

“This isn’t funny,” Clarke said.

“We don’t think it’s funny,” Harper said, as she started to close the door. 

“I think it’s funny,” they heard Miller say to Harper, and then both of them laughing as the door closed on them. The door lock whirled and thunked into place. 

“Where the hell did that lock come from? Assholes.” Bellamy said from the inside, yanking at the door latch and the useless internal lock. “They fucking planned this. They changed the damn lock on my fucking quarters! I’m going to kill them all.” Bellamy pounded on the door, yelling curses at Miller and Harper.

Clarke wanted to be angry too, she really did, but Argos had come up to her from his bed in the corner and she was down on the ground, accepting his kisses and wrapping her arms around his spotted, squirmy body. She pulled him into her lap and hugged him and hid her face in his thin straggly ruff. He was too big for her lap now, but he settled in and she felt his cold wet nose on her neck. He was big and heavy and his fur was bristly and he smelled like one of those old bunkers that nobody wanted to go into, but she wouldn’t let go.

“He missed you,” Bellamy said.

She didn’t look up. She could tell he was standing there against the door. She was hypersensitive to his presence. She could practically see him with his arms crossed over his chest staring down at her with that serious,quiet frown. But she didn’t look up. She buried her face deeper in Argos’ fur.

“I missed him, too.” 

Clarke waited for Bellamy’s answer, but the silence stretched on.

“He didn’t know what to do without you.”

She laughed. “Of course he did. He has a life without me. He’s strong. Everyone loves him. And he has you.”

“Dammit Clarke, knock it off. Me. I missed you. I’ve been lost without you. I need you.”

She grabbed onto Argos and squeezed her eyes shut until the dog started to pull away. She was holding too tight. She let go and and he climbed up and started circling back and forth between Clarke and Bellamy, his tail wagging, low and nervous. She kept her eyes trained on her hands in her lap, her hair fell into her face, keeping her safe.

“Clarke.” He said and paused. She knew he was waiting for her to look at him but she wasn’t going to. “Clarke, I love you and you know it.”

The tears she’d been fighting leaked out of her eyes, hidden behind her hair.

Bellamy sat down in front of her, cross legged. His hands came into view and reached out to hold hers. She grasped them tightly, because she wanted them, she wanted him, and she was so scared. Hidden behind her hair, just holding onto his big, coarse hands, it was easier to take. Just his hands. 

“When I told you ‘together,’ I meant it. And I know you did, too. I know you’re going through something, and I want to be there for you. I’ve got you. I always have. Haven't I? Stop pushing me away. Let me help you.”

“I can’t, Bellamy,” she said and she knew the tears were audible in her voice. “Everyone I loves dies. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

He was quiet for so long Clarke didn’t know what to think. He was still there. His fingers still clenched in hers. But nothing from him. She wiped her tears before they fell onto his skin. 

“It’s worth the risk.”

Clarke’s head shot up, horrified. “Stop it! You were never worth the risk! I was wrong, Bellamy! I was so wrong and I knew it. I regretted sending you into that awful mountain every day until I heard your voice and then all I could do was wait until I could see you again and know that you were safe.”

Bellamy cocked his head at her. “And then you left me at the gates of Camp Jaha.”

“I thought you weren’t angry about that anymore?”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I understand, even if I was hurt, I’m just trying to understand you now. You say you regretted sending me into the mountain and wanted to see me safe and won’t let me go on this mission, but you won’t let me take the risk of loving you and getting my heart broken. Help me understand. Because it’s already too late, and no matter what you do, I still love you, and keeping me away is just hurting me. And you too, Clarke, don’t think I can’t see that. I love you. Let me.”

Clarke swallowed heavily. She knew she was hurting him. She wasn’t a fool. And she knew he loved her, as much as she wanted to keep him safe. He couldn’t sleep because they were apart and she knew it. She squeezed his fingers tighter.

“I dream of you every night, Bellamy.”

He squinted and half smiled, looking confused before his brows drew together in concern. “You scream every night. Am I your nightmares?” She could feel him begin to pull back and she grabbed him with both hands.

“My nightmares are you dying. Over and over again. In every way I’ve seen. At my own hand or not. Because I was too weak. Because I was too harsh. Because I love you. Every night. You always die.”

His lips parted and his head tilted, looking at her with sorrow. “Clarke, no. It’s not real. Come back to me. The nightmares will go away.”

“I see it when I’m awake, Bellamy.” She swallowed heavily. “I see it when we touch. Blood wells out of your chest and I try to hold it back, but all I can see is you dying, bleeding in my arms.”

“The dance.” 

“The people I love die.” She dropped her head again. 

And then he was dragging her into his lap, cuddling her against his chest, her legs curled up and she didn’t resist. She closed her eyes tightly and hid her face in his shoulder. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

She tried not to feel anything, in his arms, with his strength, knowing he had her. But his words melted her and she had a hard time catching her breath. A starburst of anxiety spread in her head, she felt the muscles in her neck tighten. She tensed. 

“Look at me.”

She nodded against her neck and dragged her head back up to look at him. He was so beautiful, so warm. If she focused on him, It was better. She could see the concern in his face but he was trying to smile for her. “I love you. I’m here. I’m safe. I want you to know that whatever happens, I’m here for you, okay? You just have to tell me what’s going on. None of that has changed.” 

She was so scared and she hated it. 

“Breathe for me.” He asked, and brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Slowly.” 

She concentrated on keeping her breath slow and even, and on the feel of his fingers as they brushed through her hair, along her scalp. His other arm holding her close to his body. Argos sat next to them, curious at what they were doing on the floor, panting with a goofy look on his spotty face. He still smelled like old bunker. A small laugh broke free from her.

He pulled back and looked at her, surprised.

“Argos,” she said, and smiled, reaching out to ruffle his goofy ear that sometimes stood up straight but sometimes flopped over.

“He’s good for you,” He said. “You missed him.”

“I missed you,” she said. “You’re good for me,” her voice cracked. “Can I kiss you, Bellamy?”

He huffed a laugh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You think I can’t tell this is all because we made love? I thought for so long that you regretted it, that you didn’t love me, but I knew, I knew you did. You’ve told me in so many ways even though I knew you couldn’t say the words. I believe in you, Clarke. I believe in us, and that’s why I’m willing to wait”

“I’m not sure that’s going to work for me.”

A beat passed. “What’s not going to work for you?”

“I want to kiss you. I want to be with you. I want to sleep with you. I want to fuck you.” He shifted under her, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to be afraid of being with you. I don’t know what to do.”

He licked his lips and she was mesmerized. She ran her hand up his chest to his jaw. “What do you think?” she said.

“Are you having any flashes?”

“No, but I’m scared. Nervous. But I love being this close to you. I love being in your lap. I’d like to touch your skin.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“I want to know you’re here. That I’m here.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

She lifted his shirt and slid her hand to his side. He was warm and silky. She breathed deeply and nodded. “It helps.”

“Do you think it would help if you moved back in and slept with me again? That having me near you would remind you that I’m here, that you’re here? That we’re fine.”

She dropped her forehead to his chest. “Probably.” She sighed deeply. “I’ve been stupid.”

He shook his head. “No. You’ve been scared. We’re all scared. You’ve got to kill your demons, Clarke, or they take over.”

“I can’t kill death, Bellamy. There’s nothing I do to protect you from dying. I have no say in it. I can’t stop it. I can’t keep the world from being dangerous or stop accidents or illness or war… I’ve tried. How do I kill death?”

He breathed a laugh “You’re Wanheda, commander of death.” 

Clarke sat up and slapped at his chest. He smiled and pulled her head back to him. He leaned into her ear. “Live,” he whispered. “Don’t hide from life, live it.”

Chills went through Clarke’s body. Tingling through her limbs. She swallowed heavily. She wanted to see his eyes, his face. She turned to him. “Command death through life? Through living?”

He ran his hand up her arms, sending another wave of shivers through her. “Yeah.”

She nodded through a sudden spate of tears that broke free. “I want to live.” She leaned in to him, and he tangled his fingers into her hair, holding her jaw.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“No, but I don’t want to be scared anymore, and I want to be with you.”

“You are so brave.” 

She held her lips up to him and he kissed her. He was so soft, warm, gentle. The kiss filled her with joy like the sun in summer, like a field full of flowers, like the coolest, sweetest water. He pulled back. “You okay?”

She ran her tongue over her lips, wishing she had his back. “Mmm” she said.

He passed his thumb over the path that her tongue had just taken. “Tell me,” he said.

And, somehow, she knew he wasn’t asking if she was okay. 

She swallowed again. “I love you,” she said, and the words were nearly silent. The panic started. And she blinked. His eyes were concerned suddenly. She clutched at his bicep, pressed herself to his chest. 

“You’re here,” he said. “I’m here.”

“I know,” she said. Clarke put her lips to his neck. She ran her hand up under his shirt again, along his ridged abs, up to his strong heart. His skin was whole and perfect and his heart beat steadily. She breathed slowly. “I know.” She breathed him in and his scent reminded her she was safe. His strong muscles wrapped her up. His heart beat. She opened her lips and kissed his pulse. “Yes. I want to live.”

“Good,” he said and kissed her forehead. “We’ll get there.”

Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and licked a hot stripe up his neck. “I want to live now, Bellamy.” She took a breath, “I love you.” His skin was delicious. It tasted like the Earth, wild and free and fierce and dangerous, and it was living. He was living. She sucked on him, bit him.

Bellamy groaned. “Come on, Clarke, get up. We’ll take it slow.” He pulled her standing and then Clarke grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bed. Their bed. “That’s not slow.”

She shook her head. “I don’t mean we have to have sex, I just want you next to me. I want to hold you I want to lay with you and talk to you and kiss you because I love you.”

He looked at her. She knew he was looking for the panic. She was looking for it too. It wasn’t there, or at least it was quiet. She kicked off her boots and crawled into bed. She lay back and bit her lip. “Bellamy? I do, you know. I love you. I didn’t mean to run away from you, I was just so scared.”

He pulled off his boots. “I want to be there when you’re scared. And I want you to be there when I’m scared. We can work through our fears together.”

“Okay, together.” She reached out to him and pulled him onto their bed, into her arms and kissed him. For a while, she felt no fear at all, only joy. 

Only love.


	17. One Thing At A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy have finally addressed their issues and come to an understanding, but they still have to find out what it means. The beginning of a long journey together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> In case "Got you" has a chapter of sexy time with the next morning, I'm going to tell you headcanons so you can take (if you want) like prompts. - Clarke tracing Bellamy's freckles - Bellamy kissing Clarke's back like that scene of Bob in the tent (Road train) - Clarke a lazy but affectionate girl in the mornings - Clarke loves to play with bellamy's hair and to wear his shirt - Bellamy loves kissing her neck to make her laugh...
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> Headcanon Clarke calls Octavia out on the way she treats Bell. Octavia gets defensive and tells Clarke to butt out of her relationship with Bell b/c "he's my brother Clarke, what's he to you" And Clarke says confidently "He's everything to me."
> 
> We got sexy.

They woke up to a violent pounding on the door. 

Bellamy was wrapped around Clarke and Clarke was laying half across him. She breathed deeply and lifted her head from his chest.

“Hi,” he said, and his face was wreathed with a smile.

Clarke’s lips curved up in answer, “Hi.”

She was happy.

She leaned up on her elbows and kissed Bellamy.

She felt his chest expand underneath her own as she nibbled at his lower lip and he grabbed the back of her head and deepened the kiss, his tongue hot against hers. Shivers went down her spine.

The pounding came again. 

Bellamy growled against her mouth. A jolt of heat shot to her core, but Bellamy rolled her off of him and sat up. “What are they expecting here? They locked us in our quarters.”

Clarke smiled to herself. ‘Our quarters,’ he’d said. It made her happy to know that she was home. 

Bellamy jumped up and yelled at the door. “What the hell do you want from us? You locked us in here.”

“No shit, asshole,” Octavia’s voice came from the hall. “I’m just knocking to make sure you’re both dressed.”

Clarke and Bellamy looked at each other. They were both still dressed, mostly. He’d stayed true to his conviction about going slow, and Clarke had grumbled about it, but she didn’t push very hard. The truth was that laying in bed with him and kissing, touching, and talking had been just exactly what she had wanted.

In fact, she wanted more of it.

“We’re fucking dressed,” Bellamy grumbled.

“Good, I’m coming in to take my puppy nephew. And give the both of you your meals.”

“Seriously? You’re keeping us in here?” Bellamy started as the door opened and Octavia stepped in the room. She settled the covered tray on the table and greeted the dog. “Argos buddy!” she said. “Wanna go for a walk and come play with me?” Argos wagged his tail, bouncing around.

Clarke got an idea. A bad idea. A delicious, great bad idea.

Bellamy turned to Octavia. “This is ridiculous, we don’t need to be—“

Clarke punched him on the shoulder, and not lightly.

“What the fuck, Clarke?” Bellamy looked at her shocked.

Clarke ignored him and turned to Octavia. “It doesn’t matter what you do, Octavia, keeping us locked in here isn’t going to win you or the council what you want.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “You’re both stubborn idiots. Fine. I’ll tell Abby and Kane that you’re not cooperating. A couple of pains in the asses.” She turned to go, calling to Argos to follow her and he capered through the door.

“Wait,” Bellamy asked. Clarke pinched the underside of his arm and he shook her off and glared at her. “What about the reactor?”

“You’re suspended, Bellamy. God. Let it go. They’re taking care of it. The mission is going out this morning and should be back in a couple of days. It’s none of your business.”

“This isn’t going to work, you know,” Clarke called out as Octavia closed the door and locked it behind her.

“Whatever, Clarke,” she called back through the door. 

When their quarters had descended into silence once more, Bellamy turned to Clarke. 

“What was that performance? Why didn’t we just tell her we worked our shit out? Then we’d be free and off of suspension and I could go with their mission— oh. Clarke, you didn’t want me to go with them…”

Clarke stepped up to Bellamy. She shook her head. “I didn’t want you to go anywhere.”

He scowled at her.

“I wanted you to stay here. On suspension, off duty, behind lock and key, with me.” Clarke bit her lip and reached up to tangle her fingers in the hair at his nape. 

He licked his lips. “What’s the plan here, Clarke?”

“No plan,” she said. “Nothing. Just nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why do I get the feeling that your nothing is full of something?” His hands slid around her waist and pulled her up against his chest.

“We don’t get to do nothing very often,” she said and her voice was husky. His eyes got heavy at that and she smiled. “You taught me that.”

“Hmm,” he said and nodded, decisively. “You’re right. We’re off duty until we’ve worked our shit out.”

“And we haven’t?” she wasn’t even nervous. She believed in Bellamy. She believed in them. And his teasing voice made her feel, oh, ready for whatever came next.

He shook his head and walked her backward to the bed. Her breath caught in her throat. Her legs bumped up against the edge. “We need to work on our problems. We need to help you figure out when you’ve reached your limits. When it gets too scary?”

“Hmm,” Clarke ducked her head. He was right. She knew. She felt wonderful now in his arms after talking until they fell asleep together, after kissing him the way she had been dying to for months, but she knew these issues weren’t done. “I’m still damaged,” she said.

“Uh uh,” he put a finger to her chin and tilted her face to his. “You’re healing. We’re both healing, Clarke, but I…” he blinked heavily and took a breath, “I need you. I need you here.”

Clarke slid her hands around to his face. “I’m not going to leave you again. I’m sorry I got so scared.”

“It’s okay to get scared. I know you feel like you’re the only one struggling here, but you’re not. Without you…things don’t quite make sense. With you next to me, even when you’re scared, I remember why I’m doing it.”

“I love you, Bellamy,” Clarke said, and her throat tightened. “I might need some help remembering that I’m not running away though. Sometimes I get caught up in my head and fears.”

He nodded, feeling the slight tension in her. “I can do that. Out of your head, Clarke.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work, Bellamy,” she laughed. “Just telling me like that.”

“I guess we’ll have to experiment with what works. How about this?” he asked as he dipped his head to suck on the spot behind her ear that made her shiver.

“That’s nice,” she said.

He hummed against the spot. “I love you.”

She clutched at him involuntarily.

“Not quite then. How do we bring you back to me? How do we remind you that you’re here? That we’re safe? That together we can figure it out?”

She shook her head, impatient with herself. She didn’t like being afraid of Bellamy, of their love, because it was real love, and it was true. She wanted it and she was tired of the fear. “Do it again, Bellamy,” she said, her frustration evident.

He eased her back on the bed, his tongue teasing her pulse. “Nope, still in your head. How about this?” his hand slid up under the hem of her shirt and caressed her soft belly. She liked the weight of him on her. She nodded wordlessly, and pulled him closer to her.

“I like it, more please.”

“More?”

She didn’t answer, just kissed him, deeply.

His hand teased its way up her side, the fingernails tickling her ribs until he could grasp the heavy globe of her breast.

“Yes,” she breathed into his mouth.

He pulled away from her lips. “You out of your head yet?”

“More,” she said, and chased after his lips until she caught him again, delving into his mouth with her tongue. Loving his taste, his heat.

He rolled her nipple between his fingers and she moaned. 

“Yeah?” he asked, she could feel his smile against her kiss. God she loved him. She told him so.

He hummed deep in his throat. Her hands roamed down his muscled back to his waist band. “You, you are my cure, Bellamy.” She slipped her hand inside and he stopped her.

“No,” he said.”Not yet. We’ll get to that. One thing at a time, slowly, okay? Not all at once. We tried that and it was too much, yeah?”

“Bellamy…” Clarke complained 

“I don’t want to mess this up again, Clarke.”

“You didn’t mess it up, I did.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t want you to mess it up again.”

Clarke laughed and slapped at his chest.

“See?” he said, smiling, running his forefinger over her lips. “You’re smiling. We’re already doing better than last time. I got you, Clarke. Let’s try one thing at a time.”

“What are we going to try?”

He ran his hand up and down her side to rest on her hip. “Hmm, I thought I’d give you an orgasm.”

Clarke swallowed. “Yeah, how?”

“Nothing fancy. I’m going to stay right here, where I can kiss you, “ she smiled at the thought. “And hold you, and watch you come.”

“You mean to make sure I don’t have a panic attack?” she felt like it was a kind of a joke, but kind of not.

He smiled just a little sadly. “Yeah.”

Clarke shrugged, acknowledging that their passion was going to have to be tamed. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

“Hey, no,” he said, wiping the tears.

“I hate that you have to do this. I hate that I can’t just love you.”

“I love you, and I know you love me, and we can work through it together. What can I do to make it better for you?”

“You mean besides the orgasm?”

He grinned at her and brushed her hair back from her face. 

She looked at him through her eyelashes. “Take off your shirt.” It was an order.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but drew back without hesitation and pulled his shirt over his head.

She sighed and reached for him. “Surprisingly that does make it better.” She stroked his chest, her thumbs running over his nipples, then his abs. “Mine,” she said.

Bellamy’s eyes were black with desire, his mouth slack. “Yes.” He took her hand as it caressed him and brought it to rest on his heart. He just looked at her. He didn’t say it, but she knew. Hers. 

“Yes,” she said. And then he kissed her.

But it was different. They were together. He was hers and she was his. And he felt so good. She pushed him off and he immediately backed off, Clarke didn’t even bother explaining, she just pulled her own shirt over her head. “More skin, Bellamy.”

His eyes lit up. “Good idea,” and without a second word, he’d pulled her pants over her hips, and she lay on his bed, their bed, naked. She reached for his pants, too, but he shook her off again. “Not yet,” he said, and stretched out beside her, his hands running hungrily over her curves and dips, driving her crazy. Her breathing sped up.

He nibbled on her ear. “You okay?”he whispered.

“God yes, Bellamy.”

“Good. I love you, Clarke.” His fingers skated over the delicate skin of her inner thighs. She squirmed beneath him. He just kissed her with a smile. His fingers barely touching her. “I’m here with you and I’m okay. Do you believe me?” he asked as he rubbed against her.

Clarke threw her head back to rest on his shoulder. “I love you,” she said, turning her head to kiss his neck and jaw, moaning into his skin as his fingers stroked heightening sensations from her. “Bellamy…” she panted.

“You’re beautiful,” he said and she opened her eyes to look at him, at his beautiful smile. “I’m going to be with you, Clarke. I’m going to be here. And we’re going to be together, and it is going to be worth the risk.” His voice was low and mesmerizing and she couldn’t answer him any more, the words fallen right out of her head. He drove her higher and higher, until she broke, and fell apart in his arms, as he whispered how much he loved her into the skin of her temple.

When she came down, he was ghosting his hands over her collarbone, down her arms, up again and into her hair, watching her face. 

She blinked up at him, blissful.

“You okay?” he whispered, his voice nearly trembling.

Clarke nodded, a smile coming to her lips. She breathed out shakily. “Yes, Bellamy. I’m okay. Better than okay.” She ran her hand up his chest and hooked it around his neck. “When do I get to return the favor?” She said, kissing him soundly before letting him pull away.

He huffed a laugh. “Soon. Let’s just settle here for a bit. See where we are.”

“We? Don’t you mean me? The one who’s emotionally fragile.” She could laugh at herself.

He shook his head and lay back on the pillow. “No, not just you. I need to take it slow, too. I want to. I want to learn you bit by bit. I want to make sure you’re back and we do it right. We need to be honest with each other, okay?”

Clarke leaned up on her elbow. “I’m staying, Bellamy. I’m back. I swear, I will tell you what’s going on with me, if I get scared, okay? I know I freaked out. I’ll tell my mother, I’ll make her send me back. I’ll do anything you want.”

“No, Clarke. Nothing like that. Just stay with me. Let us get to know each other this way. Talk to me about your fear. Your memories, your dreams.”

“I will. Bellamy. Look. I’m here, and I’m not scared. Okay? We’ll keep working on it, and looking for those good moments. Like this one.”

He smiled and cupped a hand around her face. “God I love kissing you,” he said, so she made sure to kiss him extra thoroughly. He laughed and rolled her off of him.

“You know, I have a dream,” he said.

“What?” she said, eagerly. “Tell me.”

“I dream that they’ve sent us pancakes for breakfast.”

Clarke tossed her head back on the pillows and laughed. “We’re in prison, Bellamy, they probably sent us gruel.”

“Gruel? You mean oatmeal? Let’s go see.” He got out of bed and tossed her his shirt, which she pulled over her head. Bellamy lifted the tray cover. “Wow. It’s even better than pancakes. Biscuits and jam, eggs and sausage and tea.”

Clarke wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed herself up against him. “I think they feel guilty for locking us up.”

Bellamy kissed Clarke’s cheek. “I think maybe we should thank them.”

“No way! Maybe we can get a couple more days of enforced Bellamy and Clarke time. And more guilt meals.”

He laughed. “That’s sneaky, I like it.”

They ate, and then kissed some more, and then fell asleep, soundly and deeply in each other arms before the pounding started again.

They startled awake. 

“By the violence of that knocking, how much you want to bet that’s my sister?” Bellamy grumbled into her ear before sitting up.

Clarke tried to grab him and pull him back down. “We’re in jail, we don’t have to get up.”

Bellamy snorted at her. “You were actually in the skybox for a year. You know that’s not how that works.”

“Fine.” Clarke sat up and grabbed her pants. “Plus, we have to con her into thinking we’re still fighting.”

Bellamy snorted. “Once a delinquent always a delinquent.”

“Oh please, I bet Octavia is the only one willing to face your wrath over this bullshit. Everyone else is too scared.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes but when the pounding came again, he called for Octavia to enter. She didn’t have Argos with her, but she did have another meal tray. It was already lunch. 

Bellamy crossed his arms and glared at Octavia. “How long is this going to continue?”

Clarke crossed her arms too, and tried to glare also, but she had the feeling she was failing in her appearance of moral outrage. At least according to the look Octavia gave her. Clarke ducked her head and hid her face behind her hair instead.

“As long as it needs to,” Octavia said.

“Well that’s not going to work for us. Clarke doesn’t even have any clothes. You don’t expect her to wear my clothes, do you?”

Clarke suddenly realized that while she’d pulled on her pants, she was wearing Bellamy’s shirt. She was glad her hair was hiding her sudden blush.

“Fine.” Octavia said. “I’ll go get her some clothes.”

“That’s no good. You don’t know what she needs or where she keeps her things. Let her go. We’re honest. She’ll come back.”

Octavia was silent. Clarke looked up worriedly to see Octavia staring at her suspiciously. “No.” She said. “You go. You know what Clarke needs. Go and come back right away. I’ll be here.”

Bellamy shot Clarke an alarmed look. “Just go, Bellamy,” Clarke said, suddenly sure that Octavia wanted to get her alone for some reason. Clarke squared her shoulders and prepared herself as Bellamy nodded and took off for her mom’s quarters. The door closed behind him.

“What kind of imprisonment is this when you let the prisoner wander around the village without supervision?” Clarke asked.

Octavia rolled her eyes. “You know it’s not a real imprisonment. Knock it off. We just wanted to get you two to talk to each other and sort your shit out.” Her eyes shot to the rumpled bed, Clarke’s underwear in a small pile under next to the foot of the bed. “Looks like you sorted things.”

Clarke refused to say anything. She just raised her chin and looked at Octavia. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever until Octavia took a step closer.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Bellamy, but you’d better not be screwing him over. He’s my brother.”

“I know Octavia. I’m not screwing him over.” They’d struggled through some things lately, but Octavia was his biggest defender.

Octavia took one more step, forcing direct eye contact.”He’s my BROTHER, Clarke. What is he to you?”

Clarke didn’t look away. “He’s everything to me,” she said softly.

Octavia took it in. Then she blinked and leaned back against the door. She nodded. “Okay then.”

The silence stretched on as they waited for Bellamy to come back. “Don’t tell the council that we made up, yet,” she said, finally. “He deserves a break. I want—I want to just spend time with him, to figure it out.”

Octavia just shook her head. “You’re working your shit out. That’s why you’re in here, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said and was about to say more when the door opened, and there was Bellamy with her pack and an armful of sketchbooks and notes. Her heart filled with light. She knew she should be trying to maintain the facade that they were at odds, but the sight of him just made her so happy.

He stared at her a little too long before, Octavia said, “well, I’m not hanging out with you losers. I’ll be back with your dinner. Don’t worry about Argos. We’ve got him.” With that, she grabbed the empty tray and took off, winking at Clarke before closing the door. The lock whirred shut.

Bellamy stepped up to Clarke and took her in his arms. He kissed her until she was dizzy and then said, “I can’t believe they’re still locking us in here.”

Clarke snickered. “Octavia knows.”

“What?”

“I’m wearing your shirt and my underwear is on the floor.”

“I guess the jig is up,” he said then paused. “Wait, then why did she lock us in?”

“She said we need to deal with our shit.”

“What shit is that?”

“You,” she said, “ need to learn,” placing kisses down his neck between words, “how to not be responsible.”

He almost purred under her attentions. “And you?”

“I need to learn how to be in love.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his smile wide and bright. “How’s the anxiety.”

“It’s okay,” she said. She took his hand and lead him toward the bed. “I want to take care of you,” she said.

“I don’t know, Clarke, we said slow.”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “We said one thing at a time.” She unbuttoned his pants and slid her hand inside. A sigh broke from his mouth. “This time it’s you, okay?” 

She stepped up close and pressed her breasts up against his chest,“I love you, please?” she asked. “I got you. Nothing fancy.” She kissed him and they fell back on the bed, and this time it was about him. 

Every time she faced how much she loved him, the fear receded more and more.


End file.
